You See
by Helen West
Summary: Professor Hannibal Heyes begins teaching at the University of Colorado (UC) while he and Sheriff Jed Curry open a new hotel. Starts 8 years after they go straight. First read: Not Again!, Hannibal Heyes Goes to New York, Two Degrees of Separation i and II, and Two Sheepskins and a Star.
1. Chapter 1

This story borrows two beloved characters, much changed by eight years of abiding by the law, but still, I hope, recognizable. I want to tell a story, not to make money, so thanks and apologies to the original writers. Many thanks to those who have been reading along on this cycle for the past four years. I began posting these stories when I had moved from my home area of fifty years to a new state and I felt very much alone. Thanks in part to my readers, many of whom have become friends, I no longer feel alone.

For those of you who are new to this cycle, for this story to make any sense, you need to start by reading the previous stories in order. They are: _Not Again!, Hannibal Heyes Goes to New York, Two Degrees of Separation, Two Degrees of Separation, Part II_ , and _Two Sheepskins and a Star_. I know, it's a lot. It takes the boys from September 1885, nearly two years after they went straight, and follows them for six years. The date as we begin this new tale is Tuesday, August 25,1891, nearly eight years after my as yetunwritten story that replaces the pilot. The title is a play on the initials of the University of Colorado, where Professor Hannibal Heyes is about to start work.

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Kid Curry swung down from his old horse, a black headed bay gelding he called Blackie, who had carried the Kid since his last days of dodging posses. Sheriff Curry patted his mount fondly and handed the reins to Randy, the stable boy at the Kid's and Heyes' new hotel in Louisville, Colorado. "When you got Blackie settled, come over to my office, Randy," said Sheriff Curry. "I got some errands for you. I can trust you to keep a secret until we change to the new name for the hotel, right?" He flipped a quarter to the freckled, red-headed boy, who grinned and pocketed the money.

Curry's remaining limp from the leg he had broken chasing a murderer was hardly perceptible as he walked over to his office and in the door.

"Good morning boss! So, Mr. Heyes starts teaching today at the University?" Asked deputy Billy Healy, grinning happily as he stood up from his desk to greet the sheriff.

"Hush up about that!" Hissed the Kid. Healy looked apologetic. "It's a secret until Heyes gives us the word to let out the news. And no, he don't start teaching until next month. Today he's just doing stuff with the staff. Me, I got a bunch of stuff to do on that new hotel. And I got to be a sheriff at the same time. I'm just glad we got a good manager in Mr. Chase, if we can't have Heyes to get all this stuff done. Cat's got enough to do, getting things set in our house and getting ready for that baby that's coming in November."

"Yeah, I guess you and the Mrs. got plenty to do, boss," said deputy Al Kelly, coming in from the back room, where a drunk was still sleeping it off in one of the cells.

Curry sat down at his desk. "Yeah. You can help out, Al. Go take the first patrol around town. Keep a good eye on the Peavey boarding house. Some new guys got in last night, I hear. Might be some wanted men there."

"Yes, sir," said Kelly with his customary smirk. He bent down to adjust the leg strap on his six-gun holster, then brushed his straw-colored hair out of his eyes and went swaggering out the door into the warm summer air.

The door had hardly banged closed behind the deputy than it opened again to admit Mr. Cobb. The bald banker glowered at the sheriff. "Curry, I haven't heard a word about when those men who tried to rob my bank will be back from Wyoming for trial. What are you keeping from me?"

"And good morning to you, too, Mr. Cobb," said Curry mockingly, not bothering to stand up. "They ain't even been tried for their crimes in Wyoming yet, so the law ain't set the date for their trials here. I will let you know when I know. Alright?"

"So," Cobb growled, squinting at Curry. "I hear my partner gave you a big loan while I was away."

Curry's blue eyes were steely hard. "That's right, Mr. Cobb. We filled out the paperwork and Mr. Long found it all in order. In fact, he said he wished all his borrowers had their papers as good as ours. You got any objections?"

Cobb didn't back down. "I can't do much, after you stopped those dirty thieves from robbing my bank. It would look bad. But let me tell you, Curry: if you, or your conniving partner, put one single foot wrong, we might have to have another look at your collateral." Cobb sounded infuriatingly self-satisfied. He knew he held most of the cards.

Curry got to his feet. His poker face stayed in place below his eyes, but his eyes blazed blue fire. "Mr. Cobb, I ain't gonna put a foot wrong, and neither is my partner. And our collateral is solid. Now why don't you go back to your bank and let me do my job?"

Cobb snorted, tucked his hands into the belt nearly hidden under his ample gut, turned, and strolled out the door.

The Kid exhaled loudly. He sat back down and bent back over a new stack of wanted posters. He shook his head. "I do hate to see more men gone bad. And on the run from the law. From us," he said to Billy Healy, who sat at the desk next to his boss's. "My partner and I spent a lot of years trying to leave all that behind. I hope it's finally worked, but some folks won't let us forget."

"You're a good sheriff and you run a fine hotel, and Mr. Heyes is a university professor – what more does anybody want out of you guys?" Asked Healy. It struck Curry that his deputy, not yet twenty, was young enough to truly not know the answer to that question. Curry knew it all too well. The world always asked more. He supposed it always would.

Curry tried to look wise and not to sound discouraging. "I don't know, Billy. We just keep trying. And mostly, I think we do alright."

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Meanwhile, Hannibal Heyes was riding along a beaten dirt road across the grassy, flower-studded fields between Louisville and the University of Colorado at Boulder. The Rocky Mountains towered closer and closer. He, too, wondered if people would keep holding his past against him, and what it might take to find a way forward.

Heyes trotted down the dusty streets of Boulder, close in the shadow of the mountains. He looked around, taking note of where things were – false-fronted stores, restaurants, and saloons. He would be working in this town and he was sure he would spend plenty of time in town off campus. The place looked to be thriving. A flock of dirty, barefooted children in ragged clothes ran past and the new professor's face clouded over. The town was thriving, but there were plenty of people who were still getting a raw deal.

Heyes pulled Clay down to a walk as they got near the University of Colorado campus. A few minutes later he steered his mount to a stream that ran along the edge of campus. The tall claybank dun gelding had a deep drink, then raised his head and neighed. An answering neigh came back from across the street behind the Main building, where Clay had been tied on Heyes' first visit. Heyes was amused to realize that his horse was already making friends here, just as his master hoped to do. He led Clay across the road and staked him out under the trees behind the Main building, just as he had before. There were a couple of new horses tied up there since Clay had last been there, so there was neighing back and forth between the staked out horses as they sized up each other. Heyes gave his mount a pat, took the saddle bags off his back, and walked over to the back door of the grand red brick Main Building.

Then the rookie professor changed his mind and walked around the walk that led to the front of the Main Building. He wanted to start his first day as a professor coming in the right way. The former outlaw climbed the steep stone front steps up to the main floor. He tipped his hat to a pair of young ladies who were walking by. They smiled flirtatiously back at him. He wondered if they were students – they looked to be the right age, and Colorado did take women students.

The grand front door under the lofty front tower swung opened easily; Heyes was glad it wasn't locked. He didn't think openly picking the lock on the front door of his new place of work would have looked quite right, especially not with two cute young ladies continuing to watch him. As he stepped through the door he heard one girl say, "My goodness! Do you think he's a new professor?"

The other giggled. "I hope so!"

Heyes let the door swing shut and confidently stepped into the Main building. He went down the hall, head proudly held high, toward the dean's office. He knocked on the glossy varnished door.

Heyes whirled around in surprise as the answer came not from inside the room, but from the hall behind him. "Good morning, Professor Heyes." As Heyes quickly turned, he instinctively reached for his gun, just touching the grips before he recovered himself and took his hand away from the holstered weapon.

"Good morning, Dean Sargent," Heyes replied with a weak smile. He glanced down at his holster. "Sorry."

The former outlaw was not happy to see his boss looking aggrieved. The Dean sighed. He spoke softly but with intensity, "We need to talk, Professor Heyes. Come in."

"Yes, sir?,"answered Heyes as his new boss opened his office door and went to take a seat behind his desk.

"Sit down." Sargent pointed at a chair opposite his desk.

Heyes dropped into the worn armchair. He opened his mouth to ask a question

But Dean Sargent glared at his new professor, who shut his mouth. Sargent looked concerned. He said, "Please hear me out, Heyes, and you might keep your new position for more than an hour."

"Guns carried openly by faculty in this building, or any building on campus, are not technically against campus rules. But the President and I greatly prefer that our faculty members not be armed on campus. This is something in which the president and I are deeply invested. In your case, you must see that it is really vital for people not to see you looking like a gunslinger in the halls. And board members have made their feelings clear. I hate to put it this way, but I have no choice. If I see you wearing that weapon in this building again, or in any building on campus, or if anyone else sees it, or certainly if you use it, your tenure at this university will be instantly terminated. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Heyes answered softly, but with a hint of anger. "I understand. But would you threaten any other professor with discharge over wearing a gun as they walk in the door?"

'We've not previously had any need to do so." The dean said firmly.

Dean Sargent continued, "We are taking severe risks with our credibility by taking you on. You understand that, I feel sure. And your own credibility is in a delicate state. You will have work carefully to build your academic reputation. We want to help with that – for the good of both the university and yourself."

Heyes nodded. "I do understand, Dean. After the number of places that have said 'no' to me, I have a good grasp of how hard it's going to be for me to build up a good professional standing. It's important for my effectiveness as a teacher. I'll do my level best to comport myself appropriately. I have a family to think of, as well as this university and my own career. I sure don't want to cause trouble for you. I hope six years at Columbia University and a lot of work my with my wife have knocked off the worst rough edges, but I do realize there are still gaps in my knowledge of what I guess you'd call polite society."

Sargent smiled slightly. "Yes, I suppose you've eaten around campfires a lot more often than you've needed to know what fork to use at a formal dinner."

Heyes grinned self-consciously. "My wife has worked on me. I don't eat with my elbows on the table – any more. And I do, generally, know which fork to use when."

Sargent smiled, "I'm glad to hear it. And not that surprised."

"So what else are you worried about?" Asked the uncertain new professor.

Sargent said, "The President, the board, and I have given your future here a lot of thought. We ask that you not pick locks."

Heyes opened his mouth to complain about this contradiction, but the Dean held up a hand. "I know, I know, you did it for me. No more, please. I realize the hypocrisy here. But our President is a very upright man. He's also protective of his faculty. He doesn't want you seen doing anything that looks even a little bit illegal – anything that could get you put in prison for the rest of your life. And as for gambling, members of our board do gamble, as you know, since you played against them. And beat them all convincingly, I understand. And paid them all back, with interest, for staking you. And many faculty members gamble. Clearly, you are good at poker, and I'm betting that's not your only game. I won't ask you not to play cards, just not to, well . . ."

"Cheat? Clean out board members?" Heyes chuckled softly. "I hope I know better than that. For a while, gambling was the easiest way for the Kid and me to get honest money when we were dodging sheriffs and bounty hunters. Now, I'm glad to know I'll have pay checks coming in. Any poker will be just for fun – not to clean out anybody. Anything else?"

Sargent said, "Thank you, Heyes. I appreciate your not complaining too much. I'll warn you to please watch out for drinking more than a little wine in public. There are some very straight laced folks in this town, our own President not the least." The dean glanced sharply at Heyes, whose head had jerked up when he heard the word "drinking." Sargent wondered if there might be a problem here of which he had previously had no idea. Heyes reined in his anxieties even as he realized he had given away something that would have been better hidden.

Heyes' new boss added, "And in a larger way, we already talked yesterday about your avoiding anything that would make your past life as a criminal look glamorous. Be careful what stories you tell the students, for instance. I don't need to go on, do I?"

"No, sir. That's all very clear and it makes sense. But . . ." Heyes hoped to be friends with Sargent, but he knew that now was not the moment to joke around.

Sargent asked, "You have a question, Heyes?"

Heyes, taken aback by all this, stuttered a bit, "W-When I'm riding t-to and from campus, I do think I need my pistol – for my personal safety. I do know how to handle a gun. Safely. When the word gets out who I am, there are going to be people who won't like it. Really won't like it. What do you want me to do with the Colt?"

Sargent took a deep breath and said, "Of course, I know you can handle a gun. The whole world knows you killed a man. Once you get to this building, have that damn Colt out of sight. As soon as you arrive, lock it away in your office or wherever you think is really safe. Carefully! You are not the only person on this campus who can pick locks, I'm sorry to say. There are some formerly dicey characters among the students, and possibly the staff. And now the faculty, I guess we must say. So the safest thing is for people not to know where to look. Put it away and hide it from when you get to the building until you leave. Is that clear?"

Heyes spoke respectfully. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir?"

Sargent snapped, "Oh stop calling me sir, Heyes! Sounds like you're in the army or something. With my stupid last name, it's bad enough."

Heyes smiled wanly. "Sorry."

The dean smiled. "But enough no's, and more than. I think what we do want you to do is a lot more important. Once the students know who you are, do tell them enough stories that they know how you went from outlaw to professor. Be sure to let them know how you always wanted to teach and how you taught your illiterate men to read and write. Do get them involved in your research and consultations and what you are learning from them. By all means, let them know that you always used math, though the details of how you used it had better remain dark. Do all you can to help our many young folks who come to school from hard backgrounds – a lot like your own in many cases."

Heyes grinned. "I will do all of those things! You can bet on it, Dean. I'm here to teach, but any professor needs to be a leader, too. Charlie Homer has taught me a lot. He came from a rough western background not that different than mine. He has gotten to be pretty much like a father to me. If I can do anything like as well as he has for students, I'll be very proud. And I'll do my best to make sure you don't ever have to dress me down again."

The dean considered this. "I guess you aren't real used to being spoken to like that. Did they fuss at you like that in prison?" He asked sympathetically.

Heyes nodded, his grin vanishing. Sargent sighed. "No wonder, I guess. You don't have to treat me like a guard or a warden, but please – no guns in the halls. After all we've been through to get you here, which is more than I hope you'll ever know, we don't want to lose you. Or me! You could have blown my head off."

The former outlaw assured his new boss. "I wouldn't have, Dean. I didn't even draw."

Sargent looked meditatively at the possible powder-keg of a new professor he had just hired. "Heyes, tell me, is that how you killed that man in Montana? Whirling around like that?"

One corner of Heyes' mouth twitched up. "Not quite. I turned a whole lot faster that time. And I drew my Colt and pulled the trigger."

Sargent nodded. "Well, you need to put that gun away, so let's go get you into your office."

"Thank you. And I really am sorry, Dean." Heyes was kicking himself hard for getting off on the wrong foot with a man he hoped to have as a friend.

"That's alright. You didn't know." Sargent was rummaging around in his desk drawer, looking for something.

Heyes' baritone voice was deep and filled with regret. "But I did know. Or I should have. Carrying firearms is against the rules on a lot of campuses. I found that out when I was interviewing. I figured it might be outlawed here. I just had my mind on other things. I wasn't thinking that I needed to stop and put my gun away before I got to campus."

"Heyes," said Sargent, looking up from his desk drawer and gazing intently into the former outlaw's deep brown eyes, "In future, think. Please."

"Yes, sir!" Said Heyes with a fake military salute. He was afraid for a moment that he might have gone too far in kidding his superior, but then he heard Sargent's deep belly laugh and joined in. Maybe they would be friends, after all.

The dean pulled a little gold key on a leather loop out of his desk drawer and handed it to the rookie professor. "Here's your office key. Not that you need it." Sargent winked at Heyes, who chuckled as he took the key and put it in his jacket pocket. "But please do use it. For appearances, you know."

"You bet," said Heyes, recovering his from his previous mortification. "So, where's this office of mine, and who do I share it with?"

The Dean looked pleased. "He's another new man – Rolland Mercer. He's a brand new PhD out of Case Western Reserve in Ohio, with awards left and right, like you. He teaches biology. He's here now, so come along and meet him. After you put that gun and holster in your saddlebag."

"Good." Heyes untied his leg strap and carefully unbuckled his gun belt. He coiled his gun belt around his holster and hid the whole bundle under the papers in his saddle bag, then followed the dean down the hall to a door. A man in a leather apron was, even now, using a long-bristled brush to put the last long, curving stroke on the "s" at the end of the letters of the label on the glass door: "Prof. Rolland Mercer" and, on the line below, "Prof. H. Joshua Heyes." Seeing that, Heyes grinned brilliantly.

"That surely does look pretty, Dean," said Heyes, crossing his arms with great satisfaction. "Thank you, Mister. Nice job of lettering."

"Thanks, Professor!" Said the painter. He tapped the lid back on his can of black paint with a screwdriver and went whistling down the hall with his tools.

The dean tapped on the newly lettered door. A young sandy-haired man in a neat grey suit opened the door. "Good morning, Dean."

The Dean said, "Good morning, Mercer. I want you to meet your office mate – Joshua Heyes. He's got an MA from Columbia in mathematics."

"Welcome to Colorado, Professor Heyes!" Mercer extended his hand.

"Thanks! Good to meet you," the former outlaw responded as he took Mercer's hand.

The dean pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket on its gleaming gold chain. When he had opened the cover, he exclaimed. "Oh, gosh, I've got a meeting. Got to dash – see you both later! You and I need to meet with the president, you know, Heyes. I'll come get you." said the neatly-bearded dean, who then hurried off down the hall.

"He's a busy guy, but so will we be. I've had only a couple of months to plan my classes," said Mercer, turning back to a stack of papers on the desk he has chosen from the pair crammed into the tiny office. Heyes sat down on the rolling chair behind the other small desk.

"A couple of months! You lucky dog – I just got hired yesterday," replied Heyes. "I thought I was going to be tutoring, so I've seen the texts, but not for long."

"Oh my God!" said Rolland Mercer, sitting up in surprise. "That's cutting it closer than I've ever heard of. You must know what you're doing. Where did you teach before?"

"I was a teaching assistant at Columbia and took over a couple of classes there late last semester when my advisor's wife was dying, but otherwise, I haven't taught," answered Heyes honestly.

The younger Mercer studied his office mate with a quizzical look.

"I know, I know, I'm real old to be starting out teaching, with just an MA," said Heyes.

"Well, yeah, you look to be more than twenty-three, it's true," admitted Mercer. "It's my first teaching job and that's how old I was when i got my MA."

"Not me," snorted Heyes. "I'm thirty-eight. I didn't even start college until I was thirty-three."

"Oh. What were you doing before?" Seeing the discomfort in his new office mate's brown eyes, the young biologist said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's alright. I know my history is kind of unusual." As his office mate turned back to working on his papers, Heyes explored his desk, finding a mostly used up pad of paper and some pens and pencils rolling around in the top drawer. There was a small file drawer that would come in handy. Heyes was scribbling a to do list on his pad. He realizes there was something he was missing. Heyes said, "Excuse me, Professor Mercer, do you have an eraser I can use?"

The young new professor looked up from making notes on a legal pad. "Sure." He tossed a little pink rubber block to Heyes, who caught it gracefully. "And you sure don't have to be so formal. My friends call me Rolland. Or just Roll."

Heyes grinned. "Thanks, Rolland. Most of my friends just call me Heyes, but Joshua is what I'd like to use on campus."

The young biologist was cheerful. "Sure, Joshua. What's the initial H stand for, if you don't mind my asking"

Heyes bit his lip and hesitated. He saw his concern reflected in Mercer's face. "I can tell you, if you don't mind keeping it to yourself until I give you the word. Or the president does, or the dean."

Now Joshua had Rolland's full attention. "Of course – I can keep a secret."

"My first name is Hannibal." Heyes paused, watchfully gauging his office mate's reaction.

It took only a second for the revelation to hit home with Professor Mercer. "Oh. Oh my God! So that's what you did before."

Heyes said, "Yeah. Robbed banks and trains. My partner and I went straight eight years ago and we got amnesty this spring."

"After you spent a bit of time in prison." Clearly, Professor Mercer had been following the story in the newspapers, as had so many people.

"Yeah. Believe me, it was no fun. Jed and I are straight for good, so don't you worry." Heyes could see that Mercer was still a bit nervous.

Rolland Mercer was watching Hannibal Heyes. He wasn't yet sure how he felt about sharing an office with a former notorious outlaw. "So Jed is Kid Curry's real name?"

"Yeah. Jedediah. He's the sheriff over in Louisville these days. And he and his wife and I run a nice hotel." Heyes smiled hospitably. "If you ever need to recommend a place for folks to stay in Louisville, keep us in mind."

Rolland Mercer seemed to be adjusting quickly to what he had just learned, though he still sounded cautious. "Thank you. I appreciate your letting me know the truth. When are going to tell the rest of the faculty and the students and everybody?"

"I'm not sure. That's what the meeting with the dean and the president is going to be about," said Heyes. "So please, keep it under your hat. Thanks for not getting too upset about it. Oh well, I know we both have work to do." The new professor of mathematics bent over a notebook where he was writing out class plans.

When Heyes looked up from his work a few minutes later, he saw Rolland sneaking a glance at him. The former outlaw went back to work planning classes. But he knew he would have to watch himself around this one professor, other than the dean, who knew who about his past. He had to keep deserving the trust Professor Mercer was tentatively giving him.

So Heyes was careful to wait for Mercer to step out of the office before he took his gun and holster out of his saddlebags and hid them behind a couple boxes of old student papers on the top shelf of the office's single book case.

Later that morning, Professor Heyes, Dean Sargent, and the President of the University held a little meeting in the President's elegant office. The bearded, elderly President stood while his two employees sat in arm chairs, looking up at him.

"Heyes, like the four governors who gave you your amnesty, I insist that you teach under your true, full name. As you requested, I haven't given your first name to anyone outside of this room, other than our board members and my secretary. But we can't keep this a secret." The President could be a witty man, but at this moment he looked extremely serious.

Owen Sargent was just as concerned as was his boss. "No, not when the main body of the faculty starts to arrive, next week. Your last name may sound common, but that spelling is too unusual. Someone is going to put H. Joshua Heyes and Hannibal together in a hurry. We have to count on that."

Heyes' brown eyes with filled with agitation as he got to his feet. "But if the kids, pardon me, the students, know who I am when they sign up for classes, I won't have anyone in my class except adventure seekers and reprobates. If you can see any way for me to do it, I really want to have a few weeks with them before they know who I really am – or was."

"No, Heyes. We have to tell the truth right from the beginning. Otherwise no one will ever trust you, or me, again." The President was adamant.

Heyes was just as determined on his side, "But Mr. President, how am I going to be able to teach math if all they want to do is talk about hold-ups and jail breaks? Come on, give me a week or two to get established before I have to fess up."

"Heyes, it isn't what the students want that matters. You have to take the lead and do it firmly. And there is just no way that you're going to be able to keep your full name from those students. Much less from the faculty and staff. I insist on the truth. Right away. Today. Or at least, as soon as more of the faculty arrives." The President's grey beard was bristling.

"Just one week – give me just one week of classes to get the students comfortable with me before I break the news to them. Please." Heyes was desperate and he let the President see it.

"The truth, Heyes. Didn't you read those amnesty documents you showed me?" The President wouldn't budge.

"Do I teach or be some kind of cowboy counselor? If you want me to teach math, the students have to see me as a math teacher first. Then, once they find out my first name, they'll see me as a teacher who was an outlaw. If they learn my full name first, they'll see me as an outlaw who's trying to teach math. Then they won't give me any real chance to teach."

The President paused and considered this. Sargent, who had stayed silent during this tense exchange, finally spoke. "Sir, I think Heyes has a point. He's had a lot of experience in the last three months telling people who he is. He knows how they react."

"Alright, Heyes." said the President at last. "I admit it. You and Sargent are right." Heyes signed in relief. His task would be hard enough, but if he could have some time, it might be possible. "But I'm giving you only one day of secrecy for each class you're teaching – one Wednesday for the first meeting of the first class on September 9th, and one Thursday for the first meeting of the second class. That next Monday, when your first class meets for the second time, you must tell them." Heyes looked up in distress. This was barely any reprieve at all. "We'll tell the faculty at the semester opening meeting Monday after next and say their jobs are at stake if they let the news out early. They won't like it. It might make a lot of them not like you, Heyes. And word might get out before we plan on it, no matter what our plans are. But on the Monday morning starting the second week of classes, when you're telling your students your name, we'll let the faculty loose to talk, and the students. That's an order. No more debate."

"Yes sir," answered Heyes in resignation. He had a hard assignment ahead of him – to establish himself with his classes in two days and then to keep himself established through the shock of the revelation of his identity. But if word got out too soon, that would make things for Heyes much, much worse. If word slipped put early, he would just have to deal with whatever happened as well as he could.

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As Heyes walked down the hall from that meeting, with Sargent and the President by his side, they met a tall man with graying dark hair and a superior manner. The President introduced him,

"Heyes," he said, "this is Dr. George Powers, Professor of History. Powers, this is our new mathematics man – professor Heyes. Columbia University – _summa cum laude_. He just graduated with his MA and he's already publishing scholarly papers and corresponding with scholars in France, Germany, and Austria."

Powers smiled with pleasure at hearing those succinctly stated qualifications and knowing they would bring added prestige to his own place of work. He leaned forward to shake Heyes' hand, "Welcome to Colorado, Professor Heyes! It's a pleasure to have a real scholar in our midst. I hope the rough western conditions won't pose a problem."

Heyes smiled at the irony, but also in pleasure at meeting someone who seemed so pleased to greet him as part of a scholarly community. "Thank you, Powers! I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm from a Kansas farm, originally, and I've ridden all over the West, so I'm used to rough conditions. Where did you study?"

"Harvard, BA, Princeton, MA and PhD," Powers answered with pride. Heyes whistled. The very names were impressive.

As they stood greeting each other, a stocky black-haired man came along and stuck out his hand. "You must be the new mathematics professor. I'm Harold Goldberg – Latin. Heyes, is it?"

"Yes, sir!" said Heyes with a smile.

Torrence laughed engagingly, "You don't have to say sir, Heyes – you aren't a student any longer! I've heard about your record – very impressive! Very impressive, indeed!"

It was wonderful to be greeted with respect and pleasure by fellow academics, but Heyes couldn't help bracing himself and wondering which of the colleagues he was meeting would pull away in scorn and shock when they learned about his past. He had the distinct feeling that Professor Powers would be one of them. Maybe the affable Goldberg would be, as well. What would it take to win over such men? Heyes would have to figure out the answer, just as he would answer any equation – but this would be a much more complex, and important, problem to solve. And there might not always be an answer.

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Dean Sargent led Heyes into an office with the sign "Secretary" on the door. Notes and postcards from faculty and students traveling around the country adorned a bulletin board, along with a valentine and a chromolithographed Christmas card reeking of student humor. A 50ish woman sat behind the desk, wearing the type of conservative dark dress and neat bun Heyes had learned to expect from women in academia. In fact, she was the same woman who had directed Heyes and the dean, in their cowboy disguises, to the dean's office only the day before. But she seemed not to recognize Heyes, or she was very discrete, for she gave no indication of being aware that they had met before.

Sargent gestured toward his new colleague. "Colleen, this is Professor Heyes, who'll be teaching mathematics for us on that new endowment. Heyes, this is Colleen Hubble, our faculty secretary. I don't have to tell you, she's the lady nobody around here can do without. I've got a meeting with some department heads, so I'll leave you to it," added Sargent.

The new professor had been around academia enough to know what Dean Sargent meant about this lady. Heyes needed to get along with her. She would be the one who got everyday administrative functions to happen smoothly. No faculty member could manage for long without the secretary's good will. So Heyes set out to do a certain amount of chaste wooing.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hubble – or is it Miss?" said Heyes with a winning smile at the petite woman.

The secretary smiled at Heyes with a wary, curious look from behind her pewter-rimmed glasses. Heyes wondered if she might possibly already have some idea of his unusual past, or maybe she did recognize him, after all. "Miss, but please call me Colleen. Welcome to the University of Colorado, Professor Heyes. I hope you'll enjoy being here. We'll be very different from a metropolitan school like Columbia, I'm afraid."

"Just different in good ways, to me, Colleen," said Heyes. "Colorado has been home to me for years, between semesters. I can't tell you how happy I am to get to teach here, where my friends and family are." Heyes didn't extend the privilege of his middle name to Colleen. Nor would she have expected it. That wasn't done in a university. Professors were Professor to everyone except the president, other faculty members, and perhaps some board members who cared to get chummy. The authority of its professors was the bedrock of any university. But that didn't keep staff and faculty from being friendly with each other.

Colleen looked collegial enough as she handed a small stack of papers to her new colleague. "I have a form for you to fill out, of course. You know how that is. Nothing happens without forms – not even at a little school like this one. Here's the form, Professor Heyes. A few pages, I'm afraid. Please get it right back to me. Don't forget. You aren't getting paid without it."

"Yes, Ma'am!" said Heyes brightly. He took the form away to fill it out in his office. Rolland Mercer was still quietly at work. Heyes hid his trepidation about filling in any form these days. After all, the notorious name Hannibal Heyes would be blazoned across the top of it for all to see. The addition of a middle name made little difference to that. And then there was the fearful challenge of his employment background before he had gone straight. Most of that, however, was taken care of by putting "see attachment" into a reasonably appropriate block. Then he added certified copies of his pardon and amnesty documents to the back. So a half hour later it took a fair degree of acting for Heyes to stay casual about handing the form, with attachments, to Colleen. He knew perfectly well that school secretaries are the central distributers of academic information – including gossip. Heyes hoped Miss Hubble could be counted upon to be discrete when it was necessary – as it was in this case.

Heyes paused a moment in front of Colleen's desk as she examined the form. He might as well get the awkwardness over with now.

She cleared her throat and looked interrogatively at Heyes over her glasses. "So it's true. You really are . . .?"

"Yes." Heyes had no need to wait for the end of that sentence. "I'm sure Dean Sargent and the President will have some things to say to you about that. About the press and so on. We won't be telling the faculty until the semester opening meeting and the students on the first Monday of classes. I'm starting to get used to the publicity after all those years in hiding, but it doesn't mean I like it."

One corner of Colleen's mouth twitched very slightly while the rest of her face stayed professionally detached. "Dean Sargent told me on no account to reveal your first name to anyone without his express permission. Middle name, yes. First initial, yes. First name, no. He didn't tell me what that name was, knowing I'd see the form later. But I had a feeling. Your last name has kind of a rare spelling."

"And you can read a newspaper as well as anyone." Heyes allowed himself a slight, hopeful smile. At least she didn't seem to be frightened of him. She didn't back away or shut down the way so many people did on learning about his past.

The lady ventured, "Yes. It must be hard."

There were so many things about his life that were hard just now that Heyes had to ask, "Hard? What do you mean?"

"To go from one world to another," said Colleen sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a pretty accurate way to put it, actually. I'm still feeling my way. I can use all the help I can get. Math, I know my way around. I've spent only a few years in the academic world as a student. As a professor, it's brand new to me. So I'll need to lean on you a lot. I just hope I – my past – doesn't cause you too many problems. How long have you been working here?" Heyes neatly guided the conversation away from his own past and toward the secretary's past in a way that he hoped came off as modest and perhaps even flattering.

"Since we were founded – in '76." Miss Hubble looked proud of this.

Heyes said, "You must have started as a babe in arms."

"You're a flatterer, Professor Heyes. I'll have to watch out for you. The janitor and the President both used to live in this same building. I could tell you some pretty colorful stories. And I probably will, poor man. We have come a long way, but I guess we still have a long way to go. And as for problems, I can't imagine that you cause any more problems for other people than they do for you." Heyes guessed that she was chattering to cover a little nervousness at meeting him.

"Hey, I can't complain. At least it isn't legal to murder me anymore." Heyes shrugged.

"Murder you?! It used to be legal to murder you?" The secretary clasped one hand to her bosom in genuine shock.

Heyes stayed nonchalant. "Sure. Not just legal – encouraged. What do you think wanted dead or alive means?"

"Goodness! I never quite saw it that way." Colleen was fascinated.

Heyes said, "From the inside, you mean."

"Yes, I suppose I do. Come to think of it, when it comes to colorful stories, I imagine you could beat me all hollow, as they say. In any case, please do ask me anything at all. With any question, you might feel stupid for asking, but you'd feel a lot stupider not knowing." She rattled off the last sentence so easily that it was clear she had repeated it many times.

"Thank you, Colleen." Heyes was grateful to the secretary for staying on the introductory information he needed rather than being distracted by his celebrity. "I'm sure I'll take you up on that often. Like right now. Where's a good place for lunch?"

"Why, Mr. Heyes, are you asking me to dine with you?" The sly smile accompanying this remark showed that she was kidding, but perhaps wished that she weren't.

The new professor smiled. "That would be very pleasant, but right now I doubt you have the time. I hear another professor coming down the hall to plague you. So I think I'd better dine alone."

"Well, where you want to dine depends upon your taste and your funds. And whether you have means of transportation. Do you?"

Heyes answered, "Yes. My horse is tied out back. He's the same horse that used to keep me clear of posses, by the way. Old Clay has saved my life more than once."

"My goodness!" exclaimed Colleen, openly enjoying the thrill of this reference. "I would suggest the Black Angus Grill downtown. But only if you're really hungry and have some substantial cash. There are a few bars with less costly sandwiches if you have less time and appetite. The Red and Black is said to be good, although it is hardly a place I myself would be expected to frequent. So I cannot speak from personal experience. And even less so the Golden Nugget, which includes entertainment, of a sort. Perhaps you can get in a hand of poker with your meal?"

Heyes chuckled. "Just lunch will do for today, Miss Hubble. I have meetings and a lot of work to do. And I'll save the Black Angus until you feel like scandalizing Boulder society, and my wife, by being seen on the arm of a notorious former outlaw." He winked at the secretary and went in search of a sandwich and a beer. He was pretty sure that he had just successfully recruited a vital ally.

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But Heyes' real allies were the ones who greeted him gladly as he rode home from his first day at the University of Colorado.

"Heyes!" Cried the Kid happily as he rode up behind his partner on the path leading from the main road to the house. "How'd it go?"

The two men rode side side. "Fine and dandy, Kid," said the new professor. "How about with you?"

"Oh, pretty good. I talked with that sign painter we talked about. He brought me a couple of sketches for the hotel sign. I'll show you after we finish up in the stable."

"Great!" Exclaimed Heyes. But then he looked concerned, as he saw Doctor Grauer's wagon pulling up outside the house. "Uh-oh. I hope the girls are alright. And Charlie."

Curry laughed as he dismounted and started to lead Blackie toward the stable. "Don't you fret, Heyes. We invited the Doc to dinner. We thought he and Charlie would get along."

The pair of ex-outlaws chatted companionably in the stable as they untacked their horses in neighboring stalls. "So, what went on at school?" Asked the Kid.

Heyes hung up Clay's bridle on a hook outside the stall as he told his partner, "They decided we can wait to tell the students my first name until we start the second week of classes, though the faculty will find out a couple of days before classes start. The president will ask them to keep it to themselves."

"Hah! We'll see how long that lasts," scoffed the sheriff as he carried his saddle to the tack room. "But I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't leak out from here. We can wait to put the new name on the hotel until they put your name out at the university."

"Thanks, Jed," said Heyes walked behind his partner with his own saddle. "I appreciate that. I know it's a pain."

The Kid crossed his stirrups over the seat of his saddle. "No problem, Heyes. Keeping it a secret will get us publicity. Good publicity. Folks will be curious. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, I hope," replied the new professor. Then the two rubbed down their mounts and watered them.

As the pair finished their work and closed the stall gates behind them, the Kid said, "Gosh, I'm hungry. Race you to the house!" He took off running before his partner had agreed to the race. Heyes started after him, laughing as he thought how long it had been since they raced against each other like boys.

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Historical Note. Many American nineteenth-century campuses outlawed guns, especially after the Civil War, but many others did not. I not sure of the rules at the University of Colorado in the early 1890s.

The names of the Dean and professors at the University of Colorado are invented, although the President is a real person. President Horace Hale was said to be rather straight-laced for his western setting. Thanks to historical catalogues scanned and put on line, I do know all the real names of the University of Colorado faculty, and even the students of fall 1891, but I don't want to be tied down to trying to recreate a whole array of historical people, or to take chances on offending their descendants.


	2. Chapter 2

Heyes stumbled up the steps of the Curry-Heyes house on his partner's heels. "You . . . beat me," Gasped the new professor in surprise as the mad race from stable to house ended with his partner two long strides ahead. "Leg . . . must be . . . healed up."

"Yeah," panted Kid Curry, turning and extending a hand to help his weary partner up the steps to the porch. The sheriff and professor stood on the porch for a moment to catch their breaths. They Kid leaned companionably on Heyes' shoulder. Both former outlaws grinned as they remembered dangerous old adventures they had survived together far from home, when they had no home. Now they were on their very own porch. Curry looked almost embarrassed to be so safe and proper. "Come on in, Heyes. I guess our wives and guests are in the parlor."

"Sounds strange, doesn't it?" Remarked Heyes, using one hand to put his tousled brown hair into some semblance of order.

"Sure does!" Agreed the Kid, smoothing his wavy locks and replacing his hat. "Who ever thought we'd have wives, or a parlor, either?" He reached into his pants pocket for his door key, but came up with nothing. Heyes started to reach for his briefcase, where his picklocks now lived. But the Kid waved him off and tried the pants pocket on the other side. He pulled out his door key with a playful grin of triumph. He opened the door for his cousin.

The pair went back to the parlor. Professor Charlie Homer and Doctor Grauer were sitting in worn armchairs from the hotel beside Beth Heyes and Cat Curry. The four were drinking tea from Cat's chipped old hotel china. Their polite gathering was interrupted by two sweaty, laughing ex-outlaws.

"Hello, everybody!" Said Curry, removing his brown hat. "Cat, honey, I said I'd be home on time. Here I am."

"Good! I'm glad there wasn't trouble to keep you. In town, Jed," said Cat as her husband went to her chair and gave her a kiss. She continued, "It will be a much nicer dinner with you here." Jed and his bride both radiated happiness. At the same time, Heyes went to kiss his own wife. Charlie was quiet. His smile seemed a little fragile, as he watched two couples enjoying each other in a way he no longer could with his departed Marie.

"Good evening, Sheriff Curry and Professor Heyes." Said the doctor, getting to his feet and extending a hand to the friends he had been looking after for six years. "Congratulations, Heyes, on getting such a good position."

"Thank you, Doctor," answered Heyes, wiping his palm on the seat of his pants and then extending his hand.

"And it's good to see you walking so well, Jed," said the doctor with an appraising look at his patient who no longer needed a cane after his broken leg had knitted.

"Running." said Jed Curry proudly. "I beat Heyes at a dead run from the stable. It didn't hurt at all. Just felt good."

"Did he really beat you?" Asked Cat as the doctor smiled proudly.

"Yes!" Said Heyes, slapping his cousin on the shoulder. "He sure did. He got off the mark first, but he finished first, too."

"Good for you, Jed!" said Charlie. "And you're a pretty good doctor, I guess, Grauer" he added, winking at Doctor Grauer.

"I am, at that," laughed the doctor.

"I thought you and Charlie would get along, Doc," said the sheriff.

"Get along?!" Exclaimed Charlie, laughing. "I guess you forgot that the Doc here was the one who wired me about Heyes six years ago. We've known each other for over thirty years. We just haven't seen each other in a while."

"A long while!" said the doctor, looking fondly at his old friend. "We have a lot of stories to swap. You know how Charlie likes to tell stories. He's changed a lot in other ways, but not that one."

"Are you referring to my well-earned grey hair and wrinkles, Sherwood?" Asked Charlie haughtily, pretending to be offended. But his eyes sparkled under his furry grey eyebrows.

"Who, me?" Chuckled the wizened little doctor. He rubbed the top of his own head, with its wisps of grey hair. "I'm the last one to throw stones at a handsome devil like you, Charlie Homer. I just meant you've learned a thing or two, with all those years around schools. For one thing, you've learned to drink tea instead of whiskey."

The whole room filled with laughter over that. "Let's go get cleaned up, Jed," said Heyes playfully goosing his partner in the ribs. "Or these fine folks will chase two sweaty old thieves out of this nice parlor."

The Kid said, "You're right. I'd be happier with some of this dust out of my mouth, anyhow."

Heyes followed his partner down the hall. Curry was stripping off his sweaty shirt before he got to his bed room door.

A few minutes later, Heyes sauntered back up the hall, straightening his vest and putting on his jacket. His partner came out of his bedroom door, still doing up buttons. Both of them still had damp hair, neatly brushed.

"Why do we have to dress up for our own friends in our own house? It's too hot for vests and jackets. It's August!" The Kid griped.

"I don't know. It's just how it's done, in polite society," muttered Heyes, hoping no one in the parlor could hear them. "It's respectful. The girls expect it. It's the first time we have guests over to the new place. Other than Charlie, and he's like family."

"Well, I'm taking the jacket off, first chance I get." The Kid pulled his jacket into place, but left the buttons opened in the August heat. He looked at his cousin. "But you look happy, Heyes. Is it nice being a professor?"

"It is, so far," Heyes replied. "But it hasn't been long enough for me to know much about it yet. It will be two weeks before I get to teach a single class. And I won't get paid until after that. But thank goodness I've got some time, money or no money. I've got a load of preparing to do. I can use every hour I can get."

The Kid knocked on a window frame. "Knock on wood and hope things go well. For all of us."

"Maybe we better keep going to church regular," said Heyes. "Even when you didn't line up the preacher."

The Kid chuckled. "Sister Grace would be tickled," he observed. "I wonder if she ever figured out who we were?"

There was no time to discuss the question as the two former outlaws walked in to their own parlor to sit by Beth and the guests. "Now you both look like gentlemen," said Beth. "And smell like it, too." The five of the laughed.

Heyes sat next to Beth, who leaned her head against his shoulder. He kissed her cheek. The Kid had no one to kiss, since Cat had gone into the kitchen to finish up dinner

The doctor took back up the story he had been telling. "So, as I was saying, when I was studying medicine in Boston, there was Charlie right in Boston Public Garden wearing his old cowboy hat and boots. I asked him what a rube like him was doing there."

"When I told him I was in town to get a doctorate in mathematics at Harvard, he just laughed at me," said Charlie. "He couldn't believe it. Gosh, that was a long time ago."

"Marie glared at me for making fun of you," said the doctor. "She was pretty darned proud of her grad student husband. She was so pretty!"

Charlie breathed harshly, struggling against tears. His friends were suddenly reminded that Professor Homer had been widowed for only four months. "I'm sorry, old friend," said the doctor. "That was thoughtless of me."

"No," said the old professor with a catch in his voice, "I don't want to ever forget her or those days. Those happy days." He turned his grey head quickly, so Heyes wouldn't see the tear running down his cheek.

"Well then, remember that dance at your friend's wedding. . ." Doctor Grauer began.

"Oh, yes! Good old Billie got a really good band. But later on, he got drunk and sang dirty songs so loud we could hardly hear the musicians!" Said Charlie, breaking out of his sad reverie. "His new wife was mortified. Marie said she was appalled, but she laughed as hard as any of us."

"Yes, she did," smiled the doctor. "She knew how to have a good time, did your wife. She had such fun with my Dorothy . . ." Now doctor Grauer was the one with sad memories. Despite the lack of details, it could not have been clearer that he had just mentioned a sweetheart of his own of whom his younger friends had never heard mention.

"You two were the best dancers we knew," said Charlie admiringly. His younger friends could hardly get over their surprise. They had never seen the arthritic old doctor dance. The senior professor said, "Remember that dance at Harvard where they cleared the floor for you two?"

The doctor looked decades younger as he smiled in memory. "Didn't you and Beth court on the dance floor?" He asked Heyes.

Heyes had his own mixed memories, though he and Beth held hands as he contemplated them. "Oh, yes, though it didn't go too well sometimes. You know the marshals arrested me when Beth and I were waltzing in Central Park?"

"Yes, but think of all the happy times," said Beth. "Dancing alongside all your Columbia friends and their girls on those summer nights. It was very romantic."

"Do they still have a ball to open the semester at the University of Colorado?" Asked the doctor. "They always used to, but I haven't heard a date for this year."

"A ball?" Asked Heyes in surprise. "Nobody's mentioned it. I'll have to ask, or Beth can. I do hope they have a ball! I'd love to do some dancing, while Beth can still waltz safely." Beth Heyes smiled at the thought.

"You folks can dance all you like, but I'm afraid I'm a bit far along for it, Jed" said Cat patting her pregnant belly as she came in from the kitchen. "Beth, honey, can you come help me get a few last things ready for dinner?" Mrs. Heyes got up to join her cousin-in-law.

"Do you need me to cut or carry anything?" asked the Kid, getting politely to his feet.

"Oh, that's not necessary," said his wife. "But thank you. When you shoot me a turkey, I'll call on you to carve and carry."

"Oh, Charlie, do you remember . . .?" The doctor started another story with his old friend about people the two former outlaws had never heard of. Dr. Grauer and Charlie got into an intense conversation, much happier than the one before.

Heyes and the Kid had their own things to discuss.

"Kid," asked Heyes, "will you show me those sketches for our hotel sign?"

"Oh, yeah. Here you go. What do you think?" Said the Kid, reaching for a small stack of papers on the coffee table. "I don't like this one, but what about this one?"

Heyes studied the drawings. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm with you. I don't want bullet holes. Have enough of those in us already – it ain't funny. But this one, with the crossed guns, we could do something with this. I think the guns need some work, maybe add another symbol. A safe or something. But I like the lettering. It's handsome. This one with the rough wood letters is no good. We don't want it to look too primitive – that would be uncomfortable. Don't you think?"

The Kid was thoughtful. "Yeah. It needs to be nice. But still, we got to get folks to remember us, have some way to stand out. There ain't one here as really does it. Or not the right way."

Heyes nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I agree. But we can talk more to that sign painter. I guess knowing what we don't want will make it easier for him to figure out what we do want. I'll go in and see him after I get some things done at school. If you're free, you can come along."

"Old Clay is gonna get plenty of exercise, with you going back and forth to Boulder every day," said the Kid.

"Oh, I won't be on campus every day," the new professor corrected the sheriff. "I'll be doing a lot of my planning here at your place, and so will Beth. We might as well be together while we can."

"Yeah," said Curry gruffly. He wished he could spend more time with his own wife.

"Come on in! Dinner's on!" called Cat to the crowd in the parlor.

The Kid grinned. He loved his wife's cooking, and he wasn't alone in that. For company, they had thick steaks, perfectly done, and fluffy biscuits.

"My, oh my, but you do cook wonderfully, ladies!" said the doctor, after he had savored a couple of bits of the steak and potatoes.

"Thank you, Doctor, said Cat softly.

"You shouldn't really include me in any praise – it's Cat's dinner," said Beth. "I spent a lot of the day planning classes and just got in here and there to lend a hand in the kitchen."

"How do you feel about the prep school at Colorado?" asked Charlie. "It seems like a good place."

"Yes, I like it," said Beth, wiping her mouth with a red-checked napkin. "The setting is so lovely! Mr. Jordan is a good supervisor, from what I can tell. The other teachers like him, that's clear enough. The building is very nice, as you know. I wish we had more recent books, and more of them, but we can get along. The most important teaching at that level for people without much academic background doesn't have a lot to do with books, anyway."

"Yes, as I found out, it's how you get people to understand working face to face that matters," said Heyes. "If you could make me into a scholar, when I couldn't even talk when we met, you can get pretty much anybody ready to do well in college."

"Oh, come on, Heyes. You were born hungry to lean, and to teach," Beth said, gazing lovingly at her husband. "Once you got past the worst of the aphasia, nothing was going to hold you back."

The new professor smiled modestly. "Thanks. But you have to admit, the aphasia made things hard. If you can work around something like that, you'll be great at dealing with guys, and women, who just don't have a lot of schooling. As long as they have any wits at all, you'll get them ready."

"We'll have to see about that," said Beth.

"I'm sure Heyes is right," said the doctor. "I knew he was smart from the moment I met him, I mean once he opened his eyes. But to enable him to do something with it, and particularly something in a classroom – that can't have been easy for either one of you."

Charlie, seeing his former student blushing in embarrassment, hurried to direct the conversation away from his old troubles. "Have you met any of your students yet, Beth?"

Beth nodded. "One of them – he works there as a sort of janitor. Mr. Jordan tells me he's fairly typical. He's very bright, but unsure of how much good a classroom will do him. He's had tutoring, but no formal studies with a group in a long time. The main thing is to give him confidence – and command of some vocabulary and facts."

Heyes nodded. "Yeah, I met Johnny in the President's office. Hale has taken him under his wing. Johnny seems like a bright kid. He just needs to be sure what education will mean to him. I told him some, but there's plenty for you to follow up with."

"It must be good for them to know they have people there, just to help them," said Cat. "People who understand that students can be smart, even if they don't have a lot of schooling."

"Yeah, I'm sure the country boys appreciate that," said the Kid softly. "We don't like to admit we don't know stuff. Having a nice, pretty lady to help will be real nice for them." He smiled shyly at Beth, who smiled back. She thought of when he had held her in his arms when she had been in despair that Heyes might die after he had been shot in the famous gun fight on the train with the elder of the Teasdale brothers. Beth and the Kid had had a special, quiet bond between them ever since, despite their radically different backgrounds.

"How do you feel about having Marvin Mosley come live with you?" the doctor asked his four hosts.

"We'll have to keep a close eye on him, but I think he's a good young man, deep down," said Heyes.

"We around here know that having broken a few laws doesn't keep a fellow from being decent," said Cat firmly. Her husband wiped his fingers on his napkin and took her hand.

"Last I saw, he was growing like a weed," said Heyes. "I'm glad he's finally getting decent food. And here, he'll get good home cooked meals. He'll appreciate that, after institutional food."

Charlie asked, "Does he know about his little brother or sister on the way?"

"Yes, I told him," said Heyes. "I know it's early. But I don't want him to ever think we're keeping things from him. He'll be fine with a baby. He used to baby-sit for some of his mother's, um, colleagues."

"What else did he do for money?" asked the Kid uneasily.

Heyes shrugged. "Whatever he could. I think the pick-pocketing was the exception, or I hope so. I bet he did a lot of sweeping up and carrying messages. And, um, various things."

Beth held his hand and sighed. "I hate to think what he had to get used to."

Heyes nodded. "Yeah. He should appreciate his new home. I doubt he's ever had a room of his own."

Charlie said, "You said you want to tutor him at home until he's doing better in school. Have you thought of where he might find friends his own age? He can't do with just adults and babies."

"We have thought about it," said Beth. "There are some good boys who work in town – Thaddeus Jones who works for the telegraph office, our stable boy – some nice boys."

"And what about girls?" asked the Kid.

"Well, we will go to church," said Beth. "And the social things they do. Franky, I want to get to know him a bit before we let him loose around too many girls. Considering what he's been used to, he might worry their parents. And us."

"Church?" said the doctor. "Don't you think that might be a hard sell with a boy like that?"

Beth chuckled. "Well, maybe. But there will be lots of young folks there, including pretty girls. So, we might not have to twist his arm as hard as you think. And he has been going to church while he's at the home for troubled boys in Wyoming."

"Yeah," Heyes agreed. "I hope he'll find friends. He needs friends his own age. And he needs some firm rules. He needs to know what he can count on. With a mother like his, he never used to know what would happen from day to day, whether he would even get anything to eat."

The Kid nodded. He and Heyes knew the feeling all too well from their days at the home for wayward boys and their days on the lam after they had escaped. Curry said, "He'll have things a bunch better here, if only he's up for it."

"What about your own children?" asked the doctor. "I can see both you ladies look fine."

From there, the conversation went to lots of questions about the coming children, both the ones Beth and Cat were carrying, and the arrival of Marvin. The doctor and Charlie had plenty of advice.

After dinner and some more stories, the doctor said. "Charlie, old boy, I need to get along home. I have early appointments. We'll get together again soon. Perhaps when you return with that boy the Heyes are taking on." 

"Count on it, Sherwood, old friend," said Homer warmly, shaking the doctor's hand. "You look after yourself. Adios."

"And you, Charlie. Good-night and a good journey to you," said the Doctor. It was clear that he was loathe to part from his long-time friend after a happy evening's visit.

As they said their farewells, Jed and Heyes went out and hitched up the doctor's horse to his little medical wagon. The doctor muttered, "Thanks, Kid," and climbed aboard. Everybody waved good-bye in soft, summer evening air of twilight. Soon, the ladies and the Kid went in to clean up the kitchen.

Charlie Homer stood on the porch and watched his friend's wagon pulling down the road in the deepening darkness, a lantern on the seat lighting Doctor Grauer's way. He stood there until his friend's wagon vanished around a turn in the road.

As Dr. Homer turned to go back into the house, he realized that Hannibal Heyes was standing quietly behind him. "Can I talk to you a bit, Charlie? I know you need to get up early, too, but I'd like some advice."

"Of course, Heyes," said Charlie quietly. He sat down in one of rocking chairs on the porch. It creaked softly as he rocked.

Heyes settled on the chair next to his old professor's. The pair rocked for a minute without speaking. The two academics watched the stars begin to come out, first the evening star, and then the fainter lights appearing gradually above them. Seeing the brilliant array of the Milky Way was like greeting an old friend who rarely appeared in New York City.

Finally, the new professor spoke softly to the old one. "I've got two guys to choose from for my teaching assistant, Charlie. I'm not real sure about either one of them. And I don't want to say 'no' to either one. One, name of Willie McGraw, is very young. He's just finished his BA and isn't sure what he wants to do. He's eager to study with a mathematician with experience in New York and in mines. He's learning a mile a minute, I think. The world is a bigger place than he knew when he started studying. The other guy, Theodore Harkness, has been an adjunct for a few years and is pretty well settled in. He likes the work and I don't know if he ever wants to go any farther. He's worked with decent professors before he got here and I guess he must be the equivalent of about half way through an MA, though not officially."

Charlie nodded. "Go on."

Heyes had plenty to say. "So, I think Willie would learn more from working with me. He'll be charged up to learn how to teach. I hope he'll be good with students, but he has too little experience for me to be sure. I just don't know if he's truly ready to teach completely on his own. Harkness is good and steady. He could correct papers in his sleep and I know he can give the students good guidance in a technical way. But honestly, I don't think he could light a piece of paper afire, much less a western boy just starting college math."' 

"So, what do you want to do?" Asked Charlie Homer.

Heyes sighed. "I wish I could combine Willie's enthusiasm and Harkness's experience in one man and hire him. They're smart. But whoever I don't hire as my TA will be the tutor. And they'll be teaching one class each in any case. And before you ask, no, we don't have time or money to get anyone else. I would really rather split the job so they can both do some assisting and some tutoring."

Charlie's rocking chair creaked in the warm darkness. Bats flittered and dove overhead, catching insects. "Well, why don't you."

"What?" Heyes asked, baffled. "They asked me to pick one or the other."

Homer laughed. "Split both the jobs, just as you said. Then you can match each tutor individually to the students he'll do best with. You give Willie the guidance he needs and light a fire under Harkness. Stop trying to just do just what the administrators expect. Be creative. They hired you for a reason. Be yourself. Split the job."

Heyes grinned in the gathering shadows. "Charlie, you're brilliant. That's exactly what we should do. Now I feel better. I guess we'd both better go get some sleep. I'll drive you to the station for that early train. We'll be getting the nursery ready to be Marvin's room until the real one gets built. And I've got loads of class planning to do, of course."

Charley clapped Heyes on the shoulder. "So you do. You'll do fine at all of it, Heyes. You and Beth, together, can manage anything. I'm sure of that. And with Cat and the Kid on your side, you're unbeatable. Good-night, son,"

"Good-night," replied Heyes. He stood on the porch for a few minutes, watching the stars wheel overhead and listening to the horses shifting about in the stable. Then he turned and followed his mentor into the house.

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Cat and her husband lay in bed, side by side. "Jed, how do you feel about having a pickpocket under our roof? With me. With our baby."

The Kid stroked his wife's smooth shoulder. "Heyes and me have looked after plenty of boys that age. Some of them came from real rough histories. But we know how to wrangle 'em into shape, right enough."

"But what about teaching them to follow the law and respect the property of others?" asked Mrs. Curry.

The Kid sighed. "Well, that takes a little more work. But Heyes and me have come a long way from the Devil's Hole days. Little Marvin can follow along, if we show him the way good and clear. I'm sure Heyes and Beth will figure it out. And you and me can help out."

"I'm proud of you, Kid," said his wife. "I hope we can be proud of Marvin, one day. But I'm guessing it will , like you say, take work."

"Yeah," said Curry, putting one arm around his wife, and gently touching her round belly with the other. "So will bringing up our own little guy."

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In the bedroom next door, the Heyes were discussing much the same thing. "Heyes," asked Beth, "have you heard anything more about Marvin's mother?"

Heyes spoke sadly. "No. Nobody can find her. It doesn't seem likely she's still alive. Poor boy. One way or another, he'll be mourning her. You know it's going to be hard for him to accept another mother, no matter how much better you are than the woman he's used to in every way. I hate to put you in that position."

"Yes," Beth understood. "Family is family and love is love. We can't ever attack her. He wouldn't stand for that, I imagine. I've been thinking about ways to deal with that. After all, I am an orphan myself, like he is, and you are. I have some idea of what it's like to go to another household and be raised by people who love you, but still aren't your parents."

Heyes put his arm around Beth and held her, silently and tightly. He couldn't say more clearly how much he valued her love and understanding. She leaned forward from his embrace and blew out the lamp. Then she lay back down in the circle of her lover's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Bang!

Hearing the crack of a pistol going off just outside the house, Hannibal Heyes leapt out of bed, bleary-eyed and naked. He reached for the gun he always kept by the bed. The former outlaw crept toward the window in a low crouch, so no one outside could catch sight of his shadow through the thin curtains. There was another loud bang and another just after it. It sounded horribly familiar. This wasn't just any gun shot – it was one he knew well. He got to the window and pulled back a tiny edge of curtain to look out at the dawn. Heyes cursed.

By now, Beth was stirring. "What's wrong?" She whispered from the bed. Another shot cracked.

"Nothing," said Heyes aloud, standing up straight. He stomped back to his nightstand to put away his pistol. He spoke in a loud voice filled with annoyance. "Just that dang local sheriff shooting something. I saw him walking from the stable back to the house and holstering his gun with a stupid smile on his damn pretty face." Heyes yawned and sat down on the bed. "Idiot."

"Well, Jed knew we all had to be up early to say good-bye when you drive Charlie into town to catch the early train," Beth said, sitting up in bed and yawning.

"I'd a lot rather wake up to an alarm clock or a rooster than a gun." Griped Professor Heyes as he yawned again, then went to his dresser, opened a drawer, and started to pull on his underwear. "I about jumped out of my skin."

"There for a minute, you forgot you had amnesty, didn't you?" Beth asked.

Her husband pouted at her over his shoulder, thrusting out his lower lip petulantly.

Beth giggled and wrinkled her nose. "You're so cute when you're mad."

"If I had shoes on, I'd take one off and throw it at you!" By now, his anger was obviously fake.

"Even cuter! But then, you're always adorable," Mrs. Heyes crooned.

Heyes made as if to strike his wife and wound up cradling her in his arms. "You're kinda cute yourself, sweetie," he murmured between kisses.

The alarm clock rang loudly. "Can't newly-weds get some peace around here? Alright, alright, I hear you!" Growled Heyes as he pounced on the clock, turned off the alarm, and made a gesture as it to dash it to the floor. Realizing that smashing the clock would not grant him a single additional minute, and that clocks are not free, he restrained himself and set it back on the dresser.

Beth sighed and got to her feet. "Yes, you really do have to finish getting dressed. And Cat and I need to get breakfast for you and Charlie. And for Jed."

"What, ladies don't get to eat?" Asked Heyes as he rapidly buttoned his shirt.

"After the men-folk," said Beth. She winked at him. "We can eat at our leisure after you drive off to put Charlie on that train up to Wyoming.

Heyes was eating his biscuits and bacon next to Charlie. The Kid sauntered in, cool as a cucumber and smelling of gunpowder. "Good morning, Jed," said the senior professor. "I heard you out there. Practicing your lightning draw?"

Curry sat down opposite Charlie. "No. I was in the stable getting the horses ready to be hitched up. We've already got mice."

"Mice?!" asked Heyes and Charlie simultaneously, in amazement.

Heyes went on alone, "You were shooting at mice?"

"Yep. Got me one, too." The Kid grinned in satisfaction.

"So, where's your trophy?" asked Charlie mockingly.

"Well, there wasn't much left of him," admitted Curry.

Heyes took down his partner with a straight face. "I've seen you shoot some damned silly things, but mice? All I can say is, I hope you don't bring up your sons to hunt game that small. It's a waste of powder and shot." Heyes shook his head and went back to eating a hurried breakfast.

Charlie and the Kid laughed good and hard while Heyes had an unsuccessful struggle not to break up over his own humor.

"We're gonna miss you, Charlie," the sheriff said as he put his napkin in his lap. "You'll have a place to stay any time you want to come out here."

"Thank you, Jed," said Charlie. "I hope to take you up on it often. After all, I'm going to have at least three grandchildren to visit."

"Yeah!" said the sheriff happily. "They'll need their grandpa."

That made Heyes smile and forget his annoyance at Curry. He passed his partner the sugar as Cat came out of the kitchen with a steaming pot of coffee.

"Here you go, sweetie," she said, pouring her husband a cup. "Can I warm up anybody?"

"Thanks, Cat," said the new professor, holding out his mug. "And by the way, I think you may have another cat around here, soon. Jed says the stable has mice. You mind having a real cat with a tail and whiskers?"

"Not at all," said Cat with a smile. "I like cats. It would be nice to have one on the place. Mrs. Glover has some kittens at her store. I'll ask her if she's got any left she hasn't placed yet."

Heyes said, "Good. And Charlie, I hope you'll think about a Christmas visit. Jed and Cat will have their new baby. Beth will be well along with ours. And I bet you and Marvin will get friendly on the train trip down here. He's a nice boy. He'll need his new grandpa. He's bound to be scared, just at first."

"Yes, he must be," agreed Charlie. "Though he won't want to admit it."

Heyes and the Kid both nodded, remembering their own terrible childhoods. Heyes said, "It's real good of you to take time to bring him down here. To bring him home."

Charlie touched his former student's shoulder. "I'm glad to do it, Heyes. I'll enjoy meeting him."

"And it's great of you both to give Marvin a home here at your place," said Heyes to his partner and his wife as Cat brought her husband a plate of hot biscuits, bacon, and eggs.

The Kid beamed and started to say, "Our pleasure . . ."

Cat pointed to a clock on the wall. "Oops! You guys better get a move on! That train won't wait."

Heyes and Charlie hurriedly finished eating, Charlie dashed to get his luggage. The Kid got up from his barely touched plate to go with Heyes to hitch the horses to the wagon. Cat covered her husband's plate with an upside-down plate to keep the food warm while he was gone. There was a brief flurry of hugs at the door as Charlie carried out his suitcase.

"See you in a few days, Charlie, with our new son!" Said Beth, hugging Charlie and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Go safely!"

"Thanks, Kid, Cat! See you all soon!" Cried Charlie, waving to Cat and Jed, who waved from the porch as Heyes shook the reins and clucked to the horses.

Heyes hurried the horses into a trot, making the creaking wagon too noisy for much conversation.

When they got to town, Heyes tied the wagon horses to a rail. He helped Charlie with his suitcase. "Thanks!" Said Charlie.

Since the train wasn't in yet, the pair sat on a bench on the tiny train station's lone platform. The former outlaw commented in irritation, "We hurried for nothing. I don't see the train and I don't hear it. It's late. Again." He put his feet up on Charlie's suitcase.

"Yeah, it is," commented a burly man standing on the platform, resting his hands on his gun belt. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, chaps, and boots and had saddle bags slung over his shoulder. "Morning, um, Heyes."

Heyes gave the cowboy a quick, tense grin. "Morning. Yeah, Davey, you got the right name. This is my friend Charlie Homer. Charlie, this is Davey Tawes. He works on a ranch near here. We've played poker a few times."

"Glad to meet you, Tawes." Charlie extended a hand. "I guess you've heard the gossip since you last ran into Joshua Smith. There must be a lot of talk about my friend here."

The ranch hand took the offered hand, but with a nervous glance at Heyes. He said, "Yes, sir, that's right. Lots of talk about, um, the Kid and Heyes. Say, you're that New York professor who spoke at Heyes' murder trial, ain't you?"

"Yes, I am," said Charlie softly. But even so, a woman walking by with her young son hurried uneasily, eager to be away from the former felon. Heyes sighed and traded a sad look with Charlie. His past would take lot of time to fade.

Davey observed of Charlie, "You don't talk like an easterner."

Charlie sounded proud as he said, "I'm not. I'm from Wyoming. I'm headed back up there to visit." Seeing Davey giving Heyes another uneasy look, the senior professor, with a sparkle in his eyes, asked, "So, has Heyes cleaned you out a few times at the poker table?"

Davey hemmed and hawed, but the former outlaw cheerfully confessed, "Well, I've won a few bucks off him. But, boy, did he clean me out last winter! He won forty-three dollars and fifty cents off me, and nearly the same off the Kid. Yes, Davey here did a number on our savings."

Charlie laughed hard at that and Heyes joined in. Davey edged away, looking unhappy at the idea of having made enemies of Heyes and the Kid.

"He always does remember what he wins or loses – to the penny. Born mathematician. But don't worry, Davey," said Charlie playfully. "He won't hurt you, and neither will the Kid. They're good boys - now."

The long pause before that last word seemed to do little for Davey's confidence.

Heyes stood up and theatrically stated, "Mr. Tawes, on my honor, Mr. Curry and I do not have any animus against men who beat us honestly at poker by dint of excellent play and good luck. Cheaters, well, that's another matter. But you, sir, are perfectly safe. You beat us fair and square. Any revenge will be strictly at the table, if you care to give us another shot at you. And right now, frankly, I don't have the time or funds to take you on."

That, finally, made cowboy Davey show his uneven, tobacco-stained teeth in a smile.

"And here comes the train," said Charlie. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Tawes. See you next week, Heyes. And don't worry. It'll all work out just fine."

"I hope so," said Heyes as he hefted Charlie's suitcase onto the train. "Thanks! Have a smooth trip!"

As Heyes steered his cousin's team of matched bays toward home, he crossed paths with the Kid. It was good to see Jed back to riding his old horse, Blackie. "Kid!" shouted Heyes as they got close to each other. "I'm heading out to school, but I'll be in town this afternoon."

"Good!" Yelled Curry as he rode past.

After a morning spent on routine paperwork and patrols, Jed made time at lunch to check on his new hotel. Just before noon, he stuck his head into the office of Hal Chase, the manager. "Hal, you got time for lunch in the dining room?" Seeing his dutiful manager looking dubious, Curry added, "My treat." Chase nodded.

They sat at Jed's private table, in a secluded corner. As they waited for a pair of steak sandwiches, Jed watched the busy waiters serving the dining room and asked, "So, how's business?"

Chase looked serious.

Jed asked, "That bad?"

Chase smiled just a little. "The dining end is doing well, as you can see. The food is good and the locals know it. Mrs. Curry's recipes have added some good things people enjoy. The service is as good as ever. Not cheap meals, but worth the price. Businessmen bring clients here. And visitors figure it out. But the hotel rooms are losing business. Not too badly, yet, but it keeps slipping."

The Kid wasn't happy. "You got an idea why?"

The skinny, bespectacled manager nodded. He fearlessly met his boss's clear, blue eyes and said, "Yes, sir, I do. Potential customers know we aren't still the Ross Hotel. But they don't know who we are. We don't know who we are. We can't put across our brand if we don't know what it is."

Curry pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, I see the problem. You think we can hold out for three weeks before we put up the new name?"

Chase bit his lip. He tilted his head, looking very skeptical. "Three weeks? Probably not. Not without losing money, anyway."

The Kid grimaced. He thought for a moment, while waiter brought their food. He took a few bites. Finally, he asked, "What if I tell you the plan today and we make a few changes each week, get them wondering. Put up some signs and get publicity. Then have a big unveiling."

Chase didn't blink. "That, boss, depends on what you tell me. Why can't we open with the new name sooner?"

"Has to do with my partner and his plans. We can talk in detail after lunch – in my office, in real private," said the sheriff. He took a big bite of steak, smiling as a drop of juice ran down his chin. When he finished his bite, Curry added. "And Chase, I'm glad to have you be upfront with me. No use beating around the bush."

Chase smiled behind his glasses. "And I'm glad you don't shoot the messenger." Realizing what he had just said and to whom, Chase quipped, with raised eyebrows, "So to speak."

That made Kid Curry laugh. The delicious lunch was followed by an intense business conference.

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Heyes unhitched the team and left the wagon at home, then saddled up Clay and rode to Boulder. On his last ride home from the University, he had scouted out a place where he could pull off the road on the edge of town behind a shed. This would give him privacy to stash his pistol in his saddlebag. He felt terribly exposed without the weight of the Colt at his side. But he wasn't in danger of being fired from his hard-earned new position for breaking the rules by wearing a gun.

Heyes went up the steps young of Old Main at the same time as the faculty secretary. The new professor tipped his hat. "Good morning Colleen."

Colleen smiled with pleasure as the gallant former outlaw opened the door for her. "Good morning, Professor Heyes. What's on the docket for today?"

Heyes grimaced playfully and rolled his eyes. "It's not my favorite word. I've been on a few dockets."

Colleen put her hands to her mouth. She was appalled. "Oh, my goodness - my apologies, Professor. I didn't think . . ."

Heyes smiled. "Don't worry, Colleen. I was pulling your leg. I mean, my name really has appeared on court dockets, of course, but it doesn't bother me to hear the word. If I was that tender, I'd never have made it to amnesty."

The secretary climbed the stairs to the second floor, where she met Dean Sargent, clad in one of his usual excellently tailored suits. The two looked over the stair rail at Heyes as he drew his key from his pocket and opened his office door. When the door had closed behind the new professor, Colleen said, softly, "I hate to think of what he's been through to get here."

The dean nodded. "He's put other people through a bit, too. But I know what you mean. He's suffered in his day. And it's not over quite yet, if the faculty and the community react to him the way I'm afraid they might."

Dean Sargent continued down the stairs and knocked on Heyes' office door. The new professor let in his boss. His office mate wasn't there, so the two had privacy as they conferred. "Good morning, Dean. I've got an idea for the adjuncts. Tell me what you think."

"Good morning, Heyes." The dean spoke in his precise New England accent, which seemed unsuited to speaking the name of a western outlaw. Heyes sat behind his new, roll-top desk while dean sat on a chair kept for students who came to see their advisor. "What's the new Hannibal Heyes plan?" The dean's eyes sparkled, but Heyes groaned inwardly at the outlaw reference.

The new professor laid out his plan. "I'd like to split the jobs between the two men: have each of them teach his own class, assist me in my two classes, and tutor the students to whom they're best suited. Then we can ease in young McGraw and let him learn from both Harkness and me. And I hope to take Harkness up to a higher level of both math and teaching. They both have gifts – I think our students need to have the benefits of both guys." Heyes leaned back in his chair and watched his new boss's reaction attentively.

Sargent pursed his lips and thought for a moment with his eyes closed. Then he opened his grey-green eyes, and nodded. "It's a creative solution. I like it. They're both here - let's go tell them."

The dean and his new professor walked down the hall. He tapped on the door of the office shared by several young adjunct professors. When the door opened, the dean called to the two men seated at tiny desks, "Willie, Ted, come with Professor Heyes and me. We'll meet in my office."

When the four men were seated on rolling chairs in the dean's office, Heyes could see that Theodore Harkness had his arms crossed with quiet confidence. But young Willie McGraw's blue eyes darted about with more agitation than seemed right for someone who knew he had a job for the coming year, but just wasn't sure of which one. Heyes felt certain that something more was going on here than he yet knew. He thought he could guess what it was.

Sargent looked back and forth between his faculty members. "So, gentlemen, Professor Heyes and I have decided . . ."

Willie brashly interrupted his boss's boss. "To tell us we'll be working with Hannibal Heyes, the retired outlaw?" He burst out.

Sargent was startled into momentary silence, but Heyes broke into deep booms of laughter. This made Willie more uncertain than ever. When he could speak, Heyes said, "Good work, Willie McGraw! Excellent deduction. You're right, of course."

"You weren't going to tell us this?" Asked Harkness in angry shock.

"Of course, I was, right after we told you that we will be splitting the assisting and tutoring work between the two of you," said Heyes with cool assurance. "Right, dean?"

"Yes, naturally," agreed Dean Sargent smoothly, although he had agreed to no such thing. "You are all one team. You must have perfect understanding between you. We won't tell the rest of the faculty until the semester opening meeting, so we ask you to keep it to yourselves until then. And word won't be given to the students until the following Monday, the second day of your first class." The dean saw in the eyes of the two young men only tentative acceptance. He darted a brief glance at Heyes as if to ask whether he had passed his own little test. Heyes gave his boss an almost imperceptible nod. They had already formed their own little team.

But whether the two adjuncts would happily join Heyes' team was as yet uncertain.

"So, you must both have questions," said Heyes with a shallow smile, hiding his own concerns.

"So, um, we will split up the list of students who need tutoring?" Asked Willie, "and the assistant duties?"

"With our guidance," said the Dean. "Yes. But you must have more questions about the situation of Hannibal Heyes and its implications for you both."

There was an awkward silence.

At last Heyes, himself, spoke up. "Don't worry, gentlemen. I won't be angry at any question or cause you any misery because you ask for the truth. Whether or not it seems likely to you, I do believe in fairness and justice - now."

Theodore Harkness seemed torn. "Dean, if you and the President have chosen to entrust our students to Professor Heyes, I don't see how I can question that."

"Yet, you do have questions, surely," said Heyes gently. "Don't be shy about hurting me. In my day, I've been tied up, locked up, beaten, starved, stabbed, spat on, shot. Hard words hold no terrors for me. Or I can leave the room and the dean can answer, if you prefer. But honestly, Mr. Harkness, Mr. McGraw, I have no reason to hide the truth from you. Not anymore."

Harkness hesitated, still, his brow furrowed. His respect for authority ran deep. Finally, he asked, in a low voice, "Who let you out of prison? Who gave you and Mr. Curry amnesty?"

To their surprise, it was Willie who answered, reciting the list fervently, "The governors of Colorado, Wyoming, Texas, and Montana."

Heyes added, "Yes. And the President of the United States."

"So, you had federal charges against you?" asked Harkness, gaining courage.

Heyes nodded. "Yes. Transporting stolen property across state lines. Come on, this is easy stuff you could get out of the newspapers. You ought to have harder questions."

"But why?" Asked Harkness boldly. "Why would anyone grant you amnesty, after you stole so much money, broke so many laws?"

Heyes let one corner of his mouth curl up in a slight, uneven smile. This was the sort of question he wanted, so he could truly set his assistants' minds at ease. "Why, indeed. At first, they just offered us amnesty because, very frankly, it was a lot cheaper than chasing us. They'd spend thousands on detectives and weapons and put up thousands in reward money, all in vain. We were expensive, amnesty was cheap. But then, as we got used to being straight – as we had to decide on what to do about honest folks and other criminals we met up with – we gave the authorities another reason. We never planned on it, but we wound up turning in criminals. Fraudsters, thieves, murderers, we caught 'em for free. We could have sided against the law, but we didn't. We dropped off our prisoners and returned a bunch of cash on the law's doorstep."

"Over a million dollars," Added McGraw. "At the risk of their lives and their freedom."

"How do you know that?" Ted asked Willie.

"I read the papers," said Willie. "It was all there. Remember – they couldn't get close enough to a law office to turn in money or criminals without the risk that they'd be put away themselves. But they still did it. They could even have been shot. I respect that."

"Thank you, Mr. McGraw," said Heyes solemnly. "We felt damn foolish about it at the time, but the offer of amnesty was a powerful motivator. Not having to look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives was important to us."

"I still respect what you did," said Willie.

"And so do I," said Ted Harkness. "I do appreciate having you explain things to us."

Heyes smiled. "Gentlemen, that means a great deal to me. And it will to my partner, when I tell him. Willie, what would you ask of Hannibal Heyes?"

Willie's lips parted, then he closed them again. Apparently, he had many questions in his mind. Finally, he chose one to ask. "Why, why would you want to teach math?"

Heyes took a deep breath as he considered the question, thought this was hardly the first time he had answered it. "I always wanted to teach, as far back as I can remember. I looked up to teachers. When I led the Devil's Hole gang, I taught our illiterates how to read, and to do math, and read maps – things like that. It was satisfying and I was good at it. I often sent the smart ones away to earn an honest living. Truly, I did. Once they learned too much, they could be a danger to us. They could question my plans or try to rival me. But I didn't just teach as an outlaw, of course. I used math a lot in our plans for thievery, believe me. I can't tell you specifics – I promised the president I wouldn't. But it was vital. Our plans would have failed without all that figuring. Then, when I got to sit in with a college class, in New York, I really admired Charlie Homer, the professor. I knew he was a western boy who had worked hard and was changing lives for the better – including my life. I wanted to be like him. To help people instead of stealing from them. It was hard . . ."

"But now you are like him, and he's very proud of you, Heyes," said Dean Sargent, clapping Heyes on the shoulder. "You gentlemen should feel privileged to work with a true genius, at both mathematics, and at teaching. I promise, you will learn a great deal from Professor Heyes. And who know, but he may learn from you. But now, I have a meeting, and I think you three need to start work without me here. Are there questions for me, before I go?" This was met with silence. "Well, if you think of questions later, feel free to ask me."

"Or me," said Heyes, looking into the eyes of his two new assistants, each in turn. He saw no hesitation there any longer. "But right now, we have things to plan." Heyes rubbed his hands together. "Gentlemen, let's get started."

"Yes!" Said Ted Harkness, giving his new boss and his fellow adjunct an eager smile. "Now, who gets which class?"

Heyes was feeling much more confident as he rode home after having lunch with his new assistants. He almost forgot to pull in behind the shed to put on his gun belt before he went down the road toward Louisville and the Curry-Heyes house.

When Heyes went to put Clay in their home stable, he realized that the wagon and team were gone. He tied Clay to a ring in the stable and went to open the door of the house. "Cat, Beth? Are you here?" Heyes got no answer, so he figured his wife and his cousin-in-law had both driven into town. He swung back up on Clay and rode in that direction, himself.

Heyes saw the Curry matched bays with the hotel wagon tied out front of the dry good store. He supposed they would have a new four-footed member of the household when the ladies got home. And maybe the Kid wouldn't be hunting any more rodents.

The new professor tied his own mount in front of the former Ross Hotel and went to find the manager. As he knocked on Chase's office door, the stout head maid saw him. She said, in her thick Irish brogue, "Ah, Mr. Heyes. If it's Mr. Chase you're wanting, he's been shut with your partner in his office for a good hour. You maybe better remind them that this town needs its sheriff."

"Thank you, Mary," said Heyes with a wink. "I'll see what I can do."

Heyes knocked on his partner's office door. "It's me. Can I come in?"

"Sure, Mr. Heyes," said Chase. "We're making plans for the hotel and we've been hoping you would come join the meeting."

"Good!" said the hotel's co-owner as he strode in and sat down in a chair that had been waiting for him in front of Curry's imposing desk. "What are you planning?"

Twenty minutes later, the sheriff was heading back to the jail and Chase was hurrying to implement new plans. Hannibal Heyes, briefcase in hand, was heading for the sign painter's shop. He whistled tunelessly to himself.

The bell rang as Heyes entered the shop. "Ah, Mr. Heyes." A bald, mustached man in a paint-stained leather apron appeared at the front desk from the back rooms. "I've been expecting a visit from you. Come back to my office and we'll see what we can do for your new business."

"Thank you, Mr. Grisham. I've seen your sketches and I have some ideas." Heyes and Grisham knew each other because the sign painter had long been a regular at Christy's Place and he knew the gossip as well as anyone in town did.

The two men leaned over the sketches laid out on the drafting table, as well as a new one Mr. Chase had made under the direction of his new bosses. Heyes said, "You see, Grisham, we didn't think your first sketches were quite right. They don't catch the spirit. We want our hotel not to seem like a headquarters for current outlaws with bullets flying. That would make people uneasy, even frightened. We're retired from our old trade. We like comfort as well as the next man and we want customers who feel the same way. Guys with money, who want western adventure, but not actual risk. We want the feel of a good place, with fine furniture and fine food, and plenty of security. It just happens to be run by the Kid and me, who might be tempted to tell a few stories. Western color, you see. So, a few relics of our old trade will be around to evoke the good old days. Our old hats, our old wanted posters, in frames, along with some paintings, well prints for the moment. And a nice rack or two of antelope and mountain sheep horns. And we'll serve fine brandy and wine along with our stories. You see what we mean?"

Grisham nodded. He took a pencil from behind his ear and started sketching in a large sketchbook on his drafting table. His client watched in fascination as a new sign took form on the page.

"Yes, yes, there you go!" said Heyes happily after a few minutes. "Now you have the idea. The lettering makes all the difference. Then the gun and the safe will tell folks who we are. Or were. And say 'Curry and Heyes, proprietors,' in neat smaller letters down below. Yes, yes. Great. We'll get cards printed up and take out ads in the newspaper here and back east where the trains come from. You can design it all for us, right?"

"Yes, sir," said Grisham, scenting good new business. He made rapid notes.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Heyes. "And some signs leading folks on, but not revealing anything, in the meantime. Watch this space, you know. Great new things coming. Just remember, we need to keep it top secret until unveiling day. We'll make it worth your while."

"Excellent!" echoed Grisham. "I'd like to go and stay there myself. You know how to make fine pictures with words, Mr. Heyes. I'll make them come to life with images. Between us, we'll fill your place full of wealthy customers." The sign painter pulled a bottle of ink from a shelf, picked up a brush, and began to add shading to his pencil sketch.

"Well, if the cooking and the maid service stays good," added Heyes. "Running a fine hotel isn't easy – I know that much. I've stayed in too many crummy ones. And enough fine ones to know what our aspirations are."

"Yes, excellent!" Grisham said again, warming to his work.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a lovely, sunny summer day in eastern Colorado, not too hot, not too cool. A few little, white clouds scudded across the blue sky. Hannibal Heyes sat on a ladder back chair on the shady front porch of the house with his feet up on the porch rail. Two yellow legal pads were on a little table next to him, their curling pages covered with pages of class plans and syllabus notes. The papers stirred in a pleasant breeze. The new professor stared at the plans and yawned. He was getting work done, but his attention kept wandering. The mountains in the distance called to him. The former outlaw pushed away the seductive thought of a ride on his horse, who was grazing only twenty yards away. Heyes got up and paced back and forth on the porch a few times to get his blood moving.

He wondered what sort of progress Beth was making with her own planning, on the back porch. Planning together was impossible. They would have constantly distracted each other. But it was a happy thought that she was there, planning for their future teaching. They would be together at lunch, when the Kid and Cat would return from town with some old hotel furniture in the wagon for Marvin's use.

The new professor settled back into his chair. He wanted to get more accomplished before he broke for lunch.

Suddenly, his brown eyes looked up from the page of notes lying next to him. The Kid and Cat weren't due back from the hotel for lunch yet, but Heyes could hear horses coming up the dirt road toward the house and see a cloud of dust rising. The horsemen were behind a little group of aspen trees now, but he would soon see them. It sounded like four or five riders, not a wagon. Heyes got to his feet, knocking a planning pad onto the floor of the porch. He let it lie there.

As the riders emerged into view from behind the trees, Heyes saw the wink of sunlight reflecting off the tin star-shaped badge on the vest of the lead rider.

Heyes tensed, from long and bitter experience. He walked to the front of the porch so the riders of the sheriff's posse could see him clearly. He kept his hands well away from his sides, though he wore no gun belt. The closest fire arm was a rifle inside the house, kept near the front door in case of emergency.

The riders loped up the road and stopped few yards away, their horses blowing. The dusty men watched Heyes warily, like wolves stalking a stag. Every man had his hand near his pistol. Heyes took a deep breath. He had no idea what this could be about. The Kid hadn't mentioned a posse in the area.

The retired outlaw put on a friendly face. "Howdy, sheriff. What can I do for you boys?"

"Are you Hannibal Heyes?" Asked the sheriff.

"Yes, sir, I am." The former outlaw spoke with good humor and respect. He would give the lawmen no excuse to take action against him. This was no time for the old Heyes and Curry taunting of the law. He had a family to think about now.

The sheriff nodded and said nothing. He just stared at the infamous former outlaw standing uneasily before him on a shaded porch in worn grey pants and a stained white shirt. Heyes was wearing his wire rimmed glasses and suspenders, and no gun. He could hardly have looked less like a dangerous criminal.

A man riding behind the sheriff said, "Yeah, that's him. He's got a couple of new scars and some grey hair since I saw him, but that's Heyes alright. Dirty thief." The man spat contemptuously into the road.

Heyes tried to ignore the rude remark from a man whose face he couldn't see in the deep shade of a broad-brimmed hat. The new professor reminded his visitors, "Come on, guys. You know the Kid and I don't make trouble any more. We went straight a long time ago. We have amnesty. We're on your side now." He had no hope these statements would do him any good.

The weathered sheriff just nodded again. There was a moment of tense silence. The riders looked like hard-bitten types, now slumped with weariness. But Hannibal Heyes could feel their keen eyes trained on him.

Beth's anxious voice came out through an open window. "Joshua, what is it? Who are those men?"

"Never you mind, Ma'am," said the sheriff loudly. "We just want to talk with Heyes. My name's sheriff Bennington, from Dallam County, Texas, on the trail of a dangerous gang."

"It's fine, Elizabeth, no need to worry. But stay inside," said Heyes warily, still holding his hands out to show he was not about to draw some hidden weapon. "Please get a pitcher of water from the pump and leave it inside the front door with five glasses. Don't open the door."

"Yes, Joshua," whispered Beth. She sounded terrified. Her husband remembered when he had been arrested for murder and taken from his love's arms in Central Park. Heyes could hear his wife hurrying away to do as he had asked. He wished he could say something more comforting to her. She wasn't used to this sort of confrontation the way he was.

Heyes addressed the posse as hospitably as he could manage. "My wife is getting you gentlemen some cool water. You want to get off your horses and rest a bit?"

No man in the posse made a move. They looked to their leader. He asked. "Heyes, you armed?"

The former outlaw tried to sound as if this was a normal conversation that wasn't worrying him. But after the arrest at the end of his name hearing, he felt more than a bit unsure of the law despite his amnesty. Nothing that had happened so far in this confrontation made him feel less on edge. "No, I'm not armed. Well, I got a little knife in the top of my boot, for sharpening my pencil. That's nothing to worry you."

The sheriff gestured to one of his men. "Jim, go get that knife from Mr. Heyes. Heyes, put those hands up good and high."

"Yes, sir." Heyes obeyed. He fought to keep the rising resentment out of his voice. There was no rational reason, other than sheer cussedness, for a posse to treat him like this. But he was not in any position to complain. He didn't know this sheriff or what he and his men might do, and later excuse as action taken against a dangerous former outlaw.

A ratty looking, bearded men got off his horse and stepped onto the porch. He glared hostilely and gestured for Heyes to step forward. The stranger knelt at Heyes' feet.

"It's in the right boot." Heyes inched his right foot forward as the man reached for the wrong boot. He didn't dare laugh. "My right, not yours."

Jim scowled to cover his embarrassment. He watched Heyes' face, feeling roughly around the top of the boot until he found the slender scabbard built into it. Jim drew out the knife. He gave a gap-toothed grin and held the handsomely crafted little blade up for the sheriff to see, then tucked it into his own vest pocket. Heyes doubted he would ever get the handy little weapon back.

"Alright," said the sheriff. "You can put your hands down, Heyes." The former outlaw didn't relax much at that. The sheriff said. "Jim, you get us the water Mrs. Heyes just left inside the door. Heyes, where can we water our horses?"

Heyes watched the lawmen as closely as they were watching him. "Right around back. There's a trough should be pretty full. If you need more water, there's a pump and bucket nearby."

"Good," said the sheriff. He dismounted with a weary grunt. "Men, you can get down and get some water. Dob, take the horses around back to drink."

The man who had identified Heyes frowned and pointed at the famed ex-outlaw. "Make him do it."

"No. I got to question him. You water the horses, Dob, like I said." Dob spat in the grass and took the reins of his own mount and the sheriff's to lead them back around the house. The other horses followed eagerly, smelling water. Heyes stared after the resentful man, who did seem familiar.

Soon, Heyes was surrounded by four sweaty posse members who stared curiously at him as they emptied their glasses of water. One of them bumped onto Heyes and looked challengingly at the famous former outlaw. Heyes, seeing his pretense of friendliness wasn't working, glared at the strangers on his porch. But he felt helpless to resist their harassment. Any wrong move would have him in handcuffs at the least; a bullet in the back was not impossible.

The sheriff drained his glass and set it in the floor. He made himself at home in a rocking chair where the Kid liked to sit. The men of the posse sat on the other rockers and the porch steps, legs spread wide, staking out their bits of territory. Heyes stood over the sheriff with his arms crossed.

"So, Heyes," said the sheriff looking up at the famous retired outlaw. "You know a man named Harper Tilden?"

"No."

The sheriff seemed skeptical of this answer. "So, you haven't seen him or his men around here?"

Heyes carefully kept his voice level. "I don't know him and never even heard of him, so I don't know what he looks like. What did he do?"

"What about Scar Face LaRue?"

Heyes spoke calmly, but his words were plain. "I have heard of him, never met him. He came on the scene after I went straight. Look, sheriff, to save you trouble, Jed Curry and I have been straight for almost eight years. We don't associate with guys from the wrong side of the law anymore except when Jed arrests them. He's the sheriff here, as you must know. I haven't seen a single outlaw or been near one since I got here to Louisville a few days back. I didn't see any outlaws on the train. The only ones I saw in New York, I turned in to the law. Whoever you guys are trailing, he's not here and I haven't seen him or them or whoever you're after. You'd do better to go into town and ask my partner for the news. He keeps up on that stuff. I do not."

The sheriff nodded. "I see. So, you don't mind if we search the place?"

Heyes bristled, but didn't raise his voice. "Sure I mind. My wife's in there. You got a warrant?"

The sheriff was unfazed. "No, Heyes, I ain't got a warrant. But if a guy with your record wants to contest it when I ask for one, all I can say is good luck. How do you make your living these days?"

"I'm Professor of Mathematics at the University of Colorado." Heyes spoke with pride, consciously stretching the truth just slightly.

The sheriff smiled and his men broke into rude laughter. "Very funny. What, do you run a numbers racket or something?"

They heard a wagon approaching up the lane from the main road, but the tense conversation continued.

Heyes said, "I told you what I do. Here, have a look at my class plans." He picked up the fallen yellow pad and held it up for sheriff to see.

"You're serous?" The sheriff scratched his head under his ragged brown hat.

Heyes' eyes blazed. His hands were assertively on his hips, but his voice was still calm. "Damn right. I specialize in figuring up things about ballistics and explosives. Make sense to you, now?"

"Well. Maybe it does, at that." The sheriff began to back off from his hostility. But he still asked one more question. "You know an old guy named Cavanaugh, lives around here?"

Heyes hesitated, his heart racing. If he denied knowing Cavanaugh, who had saved his partner's life, the Kid or one of his deputies or the doctor could accidentally betray the lie. If Heyes admitted to knowing the kindly old fugitive from the law, he might be pressured to give away where his friend lived, as he was determined never to do.

But then there was a loud rattling from the lane up to the house, too loud to speak over. Cat Curry had just driven the Curry family wagon up to the porch and Kid Curry was riding beside her. The Kid pulled up his dark bay, dismounted rapidly and climbed the steps to the porch. The badge on his chest announced his identity clearly to his fellow lawman. The out of town sheriff forgot all about grilling Hannibal Heyes as he confronted his partner who worked on the side of the law.

The Kid marched up to the strange sheriff on his porch. His right hand hovered near his holster. His intense blue eyes were on the invader, but he addressed Heyes. "Hello, partner. Who's this lawman and what's he doing here?"

The out-of-town sheriff began to reply, but Heyes spoke over him. "Good morning, Jed. He's from the Texas panhandle, trailing some gang he hasn't asked about yet. He's been asking obnoxious questions about criminals I don't know and pushing me and Beth around just for the fun of it. He thought I couldn't do anything about it. I somehow managed not to mention the fact that you were headed this way, partner."

The sheriff began "My name's Sheriff Bennington, of Dallam County, Texas. We're on the trail of . . ."

Curry didn't let him finish. He blue eyes flared as he spoke with crisp authority. "Bennington, my name is Sheriff Jedediah Curry. This is my jurisdiction. If you have questions about what has happened around Louisville, like who might have been seen here, you can ride into town with me and ask your questions at my office. If my deputies or I can help you with your legitimate business, fine. But first, get your filthy men off our porch and your horses off our property before we charge you all with trespassing. My wife needs to get into her house and I want your men gone. Professor and Mrs. Heyes are waiting for you to leave them in peace. Move! Now."

"And I want my knife back," added Heyes crisply.

The out-of-town lawman struggled to regain his dignity and authority. "Sheriff, I apologize if . . ."

Curry wasn't taking any guff on his own porch. "Give Heyes his knife back, nicely, then go. Now. Or do I need to charge you with theft?"

The blond sheriff nodded at the man called Jim, who pulled Heyes's knife out of his pocket and dropped it on the porch with distain. Curry's legendary trigger hand twitched as it rested on the grips of his Colt. "Pick it up and hand it to him. Nicely." Jim, seeing Curry's hand on his Colt, complied but with a scowl on his face.

Heyes quietly said, "Thank you." He returned the little weapon to its scabbard in his boot.

The Kid went on in a lighter tone of easy command, almost joking. "There now, was that so bad? You boys head out to the road and turn left toward town. It's about a mile. Meet me at my office. Anybody can tell you where the sheriff's office is in Louisville. Go on. I'll come behind you.

Sheriff Bennington directed his men to go get their horses and do as Curry had ordered them. Before he left, the Texas sheriff took off his hat and looked at Heyes. He said, "Thank you for the water, for us and our horses, Professor Heyes. And please thank Mrs. Heyes."

"You're welcome," said Heyes in surprise.

The Colorado professor watched as the unwanted lawmen from the Texas panhandle rode away. They darted wary glances behind them at the famed local sheriff who had interrupted their fun.

"Thank you, Sheriff Curry," said Heyes heartily, exhaling in relief. "All clear, honey!" He called into the house. "Jed saw them off."

Cat smiled sympathetically at Heyes as her husband helped her down from the wagon and up onto the porch. It had been hard for her to her cousin-in-law subjected to abuse by lawmen.

"I'll take over here, while you go into town and look after our visitors," said Heyes, who was still sweating.

Beth burst out the front door to hug her husband. "Oh, Heyes, I was so scared for you! They were just being nasty, right? They didn't have any real reason to treat you that way, did they?"

"Just the same old rivalry, outlaws versus law," Heyes assured his wife as he put his arm around her. "The guy who identified me looked sort of familiar – maybe he was in a posse that chased us once or something. We probably led them a hot chase eight or nine years back. If they had any excuse, that was it."

"Well, we were pretty disrespectful to the law men, in our day," confessed Kid Curry. "Sassed them like mad, pulled every dirty trick we could think of, short of hurting anybody, and then rode off hell bent for leather. Can hardly blame them for taking it out on us, now." The former outlaws both laughed, but their laughter had a bitter edge to it.

"So, this is going to keep happening?" Asked Cat with no real doubt in her voice.

"More than likely," said Heyes. "And I didn't even know these guys except that one who identified me. When some old lawman with a real, personal grudge shows up . . ." seeing how worried his wife looked, Heyes didn't finish the sentence.

The Kids aid, "Don't you gals worry. We'll keep you safe. See you all soon." He swung into his saddle. "Sorry I can't stay for lunch like we'd planned. I'll send a deputy around, just to be sure that posse don't come back this way."

Heyes waved to his partner and accompanied the women into the house. His face was tense with poorly concealed shame and anger. Having to turn to his partner for protection hurt his pride badly, especially in front of Beth.

As they walked back toward the kitchen, Beth squeezed her husband's hand. She whispered to him, "I was proud of you, how you handled that sheriff."

Heyes muttered, "Proud? Of a sniveling coward who didn't dare order them off the porch?"

"You kept your temper, no matter how they pushed you. You knew it was the only way to keep me safe. They could not get what they wanted out of you. You were the one who was really in charge. So yes, I am proud." She kissed his cheek.

Heyes bowed his head and kissed her hand, too moved to speak.

As Cat and Beth fixed lunch, Heyes busied himself looking after the team of horses and unloading the furniture from the wagon. It was a challenge for one man, but he wouldn't have dreamed of asking a pregnant woman for help. After lunch, Heyes moved the old pieces into the nursery where Marvin would be staying until they added rooms to the house. The brass bed had been taken to pieces, so he put it back together. For that, he did ask Beth's help, but just to hold things. Heyes brought in a chair from the living room, arranged the little desk and chest of drawers and studied the effect with a critical eye. "Not bad."

"He'll need curtains and a rug. Maybe a print on the wall. The furniture is a bit battered, but with some fresh linen, paint, and polish, it'll be fine," said Beth.

Heyes laughed softly. "No paint needed to please Marvin. He's never had his own room in his life, any more than I had at his age. He'll be over the moon, I'm sure." Heyes put his arms around Beth. The pair stood a while in silence, contemplating the future of their family. It was hard to part again and get back to planning.

The Kid came home early that night, when the sun was still up. He tied his horse in front of the house and hurried in the door. He found Beth, Cat, and Heyes talking in the dining room.

Cat was saying, "So yes, the printer is working with that sign painter on new menus, business cards, and some newspaper advertisements. I hope they can hold their tongues until the unveiling! And I've got my eye on a buffalo robe for the lobby."

Curry walked up behind his wife's chair. He put his arms around her. "I hope you haven't started on dinner."

Cat turned to look at her husband as he stepped forward so she could see him. "No. Why? What do you have in mind?"

The new hotel owner eagerly suggested, "What about dinner at the Hideout? We need to sample that new menu."

"Yes, we do," said Cat happily. "I'd love an evening off cooking. What about you, Beth?"

Beth got to her feet. "Yes! Heyes and I have been working on class plans all day and Cat's been cleaning house. We could use a nice break. Let's clean up and get ready."

Heyes nodded. "Sure. All this paperwork wears on me."

The Kid's eyes sparkled. "Then go get washed up, partner." Curry slapped his partner on the shoulder and grinned as he walked down the hall hand in hand with his wife to prepare for their dinner in town.

Naturally, Heyes said nothing in front of their wives about the unpleasant incident the Kid had broken up a few hours earlier. He suspected the posse had already left town, at the urging of his partner, or the Kid would never have suggested this outing. But he had a feeling something else was going on. Heyes knew a Kid Curry plan when he saw one. He just didn't know what the plan was. He was eager to find out.

But once Heyes had buckled on his gun belt, he was wanted to ask his partner about other things. When both men were dressed in their good suits but the ladies, with their more elaborate dresses and hair to prepare, were still primping, Heyes spoke quietly to his partner on the porch. They stood and looked out at the mountains rather than at each other.

The new professor wasn't pulling his punches. "So, Kid, how did that sheriff know where we live? A sheriff from out of state - the Texas panhandle. Who talked?"

Curry heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't know for sure, Heyes. How can we? A lot of folks know about us and even the house – the builders, yeah, my deputies, gamblers at Christy's Place, just plain old folks in town. Your new bosses at the University. Gossip would do it – no need for anybody to want to turn on us."

Heyes nodded. "Yeah, I guess it's not so much who talked as who listened. But word went a long way south in a hurry." The darker outlaw turned to face the lighter one. "Likely by way of a lawman."

Curry shrugged. "Real likely. But which one? No way to know. I don't have to tell you, they don't all take to you or to me, badge or no badge."

Heyes looked back at the mountains. "So I noticed. But did that sheriff ask you about Cavanaugh?"

"Cavanaugh? No." The Kid was startled and not happy. "Did he ask you about him?"

Heyes perched on the porch rail. "Yeah. I mean, think about it. Here we are, three guys who used to make big money on the wrong side of the law, all gone straight and living within five miles of each other. You think they figured we might have something going on? And then here comes another gang, right toward us."

Curry shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know. I hope nobody really thinks that. You and I have amnesty, but Cavanaugh don't. And I owe him my life. Him and you."

"So that Texas sheriff didn't keep sniffing around about you and me when he got to your office?" Heyes asked.

"No. He just got down to business and asked us about that gang they trailed to up here. It was the Pendleton bunch. Billy had heard about it through a telegram, just this afternoon. Word was, they split up on the way, but a couple of them made it this far. Anyhow, that's what our friend from Dallam wanted. Anything he asked you was just fishing, I guess. And a mean deputy. When they got that news, they rode off pretty fast."

The conversation between two former outlaws was interrupted as Mrs. Heyes and Mrs. Curry came onto the porch. "Oh, you gals all ready, at last?" Asked Curry with a teasing smile at the ladies. "Let's go get the team hitched up, Heyes. We got two pretty ladies to take to dinner."

"We sure do," said Joshua.

Once they were all hitched up, Heyes and the Kid rode their horses the short distance while Cat drove the wagon with Beth beside her. The two Louisville businessmen tipped their hats to friends as they rode. It was nice to be known by their real names and still have people who knew them be friendly. Far from everybody resented them.

The Curry wagon and the two horses turned into the alley behind the hotel. They entrusted their horses to Mr. O'Hara, who was in charge of most of the heavy work around the hotel and its stable. "So, boss, a night on the town?" He said as he led the horses away.

"Yes, I figured we could all use a little fun," said Curry.

The two couples entered the hotel by the back door, two by two. As they approached the hotel's formal dining room, they heard something the Heyes had not expected. "Chopin!" Exclaimed Beth. "I didn't know we had a pianist."

"We didn't, until today," said Cat. "A lady showed up who used to play here sometimes. We asked her to try out for a while. We wanted you folks to hear her and let us know what you think. You know piano a lot better than we do."

"Yeah, all I know is 'Camptown Races' and 'Home Sweet Home,'" joked the Kid. "But I thought you folks would enjoy some good music with dinner. She even tuned the piano for us."

"We surely will enjoy hearing her!" Said Beth. "Thank you – what a great treat!"

Heyes smiled and held his wife's hand, listening. He didn't know music as well as she did, but he enjoyed it with her.

The four fell silent to listen to the hotel's grand piano as they entered the back of the dining room and quietly took the table the waiter had ready for the owners. They kept their voices low as they listened attentively, waiting for their meal to arrive. The diners at other tables, of whom there were only a few at this early hour, also spoke little and quietly, listening almost as if they were at a concert.

When the pianist finished the Chopin Etude, the diners around the room applauded politely, an honor rarely granted to a background musician. The lovely dark-haired musician curtsied, then walked over to speak to the owners. The men politely stood as the elegantly garbed lady approached. Curry said, "I'd like to introduce Mrs. Melinda Luisa Cortez. Mrs. Cortez, this is Joshua Heyes, and his wife, Elizabeth."

Beth stood to greet the musician they had been enjoying, "You play beautifully, Mrs. Cortez. And we thought we'd left good classical music behind when we left New York – we were very wrong, thank goodness."

Mrs. Cortez curtsied gracefully and her dark eyes shown with pleasure. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Heyes. I hoped the new owners here would be music lovers. This hotel has a very fine piano. A Steinway, shipped all the way from New York. It is a shame they don't often have anyone to play it."

"We are lucky to have you here tonight to play," said Heyes. "But please don't let us interrupt you. It's been too long since we heard a really fine pianist."

"Thank you, Mr. Heyes," said the musician. "You are too kind."

As they ate their very delicious dinners, the four had a glorious time listening. It felt a bit strange to the Currys, who were not used to hearing classical music, and even the Heyes had never had such fine accompaniment for a meal. When they had finished dinner and there was a pause in the music, one of the diners came over from another table. Heyes stood, smiling, to shake Gordon Cable's hand

"Good to see you, boss." Heyes winked at the mine manager.

Cable kept his voice low while the rest of the room as speaking more loudly. He evidently knew Heyes was keeping his new academic post quiet for the moment. "Good evening, ladies, sheriff. So, Joshua, I'm not going to be your only boss." He reached out a hand to Heyes, who took it gladly.

"You don't mind, do you? I mean, you are the one who set up that, um, special poker game. And I am mighty grateful." Heyes' eyes shone with joy.

Cable's smile made it clear how glad he was for Heyes. "Of course, I don't mind, as long as you can get out to the Fayette now and then. You do need you."

"I wouldn't miss it, Gordon," said Heyes. "I need to learn about what your men do. Sargent's happy for me to keep working with you, and even tell my students about what I'm learning."

"You just keep him safe, down there, Mr. Cable," said Beth. "The rest of us need him, too."

While Heyes and Beth were talking with Gordon, Curry went to speak quietly to Mrs. Cortez. When he returned to the table, he had a special sparkle in his eyes. Cable waved good night to his friends as the music was about to resume.

The pianist played a few lilting notes, and gazed warmly at the owners' table.

Heyes recognized the melody. He gestured for Beth to stand and he held out his arm to lead her to where some tables had been cleared away near the piano to make a dance floor. Heyes theatrically bowed low to Beth, who curtsied back with a glowing smile. Heyes put his hand on Beth's waist and led her into a graceful waltz as Mrs. Cortez played "Roses from the South." Another couple joined them on the floor. Cat and Jed only watched the dancers, since Cat was too far along in her pregnancy to feel comfortable on the floor. The waltz gave way to a polka and a mazurka, and another waltz. Heyes and Beth whirled joyously over the floor amid a growing group of dancers.

Finally, the couple went back to the table while the pianist took a break. "Jed, what a wonderful surprise you had for us!" Said Beth breathlessly. "You know how Heyes and I love to dance. Thank you!"

"My pleasure, Ma'am," said Jed. "One of these days, Cat and I will be back on the floor with you. But right now, we can watch." Cat smiled at her husband and took his hand.

"If this lady stays with us a while, and I vote yes on that, Beth and I will be in great practice for the ball at the University of Colorado," said Heyes. He called over a waiter to get Beth a cool drink.

"Yeah, Mrs. Cortez seems real popular with the customers," observed Jed. "Folks are already hearing about her and coming in to dance. And getting wine while they're at it. I'll talk to Chase about keeping her on until she wants to tour. She does a lot of concerts."

"Will the ball be before or after you let the students know who you are?" Asked Beth softly when the waiter had left.

"After," said Heyes. "So, we need to be in practice dancing. Then we can spend all our time on the floor instead of listening to the gossip about us."

The pianist sat down and flexed her long fingers. Beth and Heyes shared a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

The wagon rattled along home in the starlight, after the moon had set. Mrs. Heyes leaned sleepily against her cousin-in-law's shoulder and Mrs. Curry leaned back as she held the reins. The horses hardly needed guidance to find their way home, since they had already been back and forth between Louisville and the house a mile away so many times. Beth looked fondly at the dark silhouettes of the two beloved riders in front of them, riding close together. Over the noise of the wagon, she heard the wavering sound of Heyes softly whistling "Roses from the South." She smiled in the darkness.

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"Aw, the little darlings!" crooned Cat Christy as she, Beth, and Charlotte Glover gazed down at a nest of vari-colored kittens being nursed by their proud, purring mother in the store room of the local dry goods store. Motes of dust danced in the morning sun beams pouring through a high window above the three women leaning over the rag-padded basket.

"The kittens are adorable," agreed Beth Heyes. "I can see that they're still too young to leave their mother."

"Yes, I'd like to keep them with her for at least another couple of weeks," said Charlotte Glover, proprietor of the store. "They'll do better if they get more time to grow up before they have to make their livings mousing. But you can pick your favorite now, Beth, if you like."

"No, I'd like to wait and let Marvin pick his favorite and name it," said Beth.

"Who's Marvin?" Asked Charlotte.

Beth apologized. "Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't told you yet about the boy Joshua and I are going to be fostering – Marvin Mosley. In fact, some of the yard goods I ordered today are for his bed. He's a fourteen-year-old from Wyoming with, um, a difficult past. He's probably an orphan, but we aren't even sure about that. His mother vanished a few weeks ago, but he hadn't seen her in a long time. Now, Marvin is in a home for troubled boys in Wyoming. Heyes says he's really a good boy, just mixed up because he's never had any guidance until very recently. Marvin is coming down next week with Charlie Homer. I hope caring for a pet will be good for him."

"Oh? It sounds like an interesting time coming up for you and Mr. Heyes," said Charlotte, trying not to sound too dubious.

"That's a kind way to put it!" Laughed Beth. "Crazy would be another word, with Joshua and me both teaching, helping with the hotel, and raising a former juvenile delinquent while Cat has her baby. I might as well tell you, if you'll promise to keep it quiet – Heyes met the boy when he was in prison last spring. Marvin was locked up for picking pockets. He says he's determined to reform and to do well with his studies, but I don't for a moment assume it will be that simple."

"No, I guess not," said Mrs. Glover. "But if he truly wants to do better, that's the first step."

Cat nodded. "Yes, like our husbands. He'll get better help than they did when they went straight. And he's not in nearly as much trouble as they were at his age."

"I hope not!" Said Beth. "It took them fifteen years to go straight and almost eight years to get amnesty. You might say that Marvin is getting a 23-year jump on Joshua and Jed. I hope he takes good advantage of it."

Mrs. Glover said, "I think you and Mr. Heyes are very brave, Beth. Let's go have some tea in our back room while we wait for your orders to be made up and loaded into your wagon. The water should be hot – I put it on when you arrived."

"Is Marvin going to attend the Louisville Public School?" Asked Charlotte as she and her two friends sat down in oddly assorted chairs.

Mrs. Heyes shook her head. "No. He's not had very much formal education. We don't think he should be in the public school, at least at first. Heyes and I want to tutor him at home until we can get him up to a decent level. Honestly, we are worried he might be embarrassed to be so far behind the other boys his own age, so he might cause trouble in a public school. Heyes thinks Marvin is quite bright. But he has a lot of years to make up. And he's not very used to formal discipline."

"You might like to meet my friend, Hetty Bainbridge. She teaches high school at the Louisville school and has been there for several years," suggested Charlotte as she poured hot tea for her friends. "I hear excellent things from parents about her teaching. You two teachers might enjoy talking together. Maybe over lunch?"

"That seems like a fine idea," agreed Beth. "I've taught a little of nearly every age and school level at the clinic, but just a bit here and there, and mostly older students. I don't have her long experience with boys Marvin's age. And Heyes, of course, wasn't exactly trying to reform the boys he worked with in his gangs, though he did teach a lot of them to read and write and do simple mathematics."

Cat stayed in the store watching their order being loaded on the wagon while Beth and Charlotte walked down the mine-ash-covered street to the school. Mrs. Heyes tried to quiet her nerves. She could only guess how a maiden schoolmarm would react to meeting Mrs. Hannibal Heyes, who was about to start fostering a former pickpocket.

Charlotte knocked on the door of the handsome brick school building. The door was opened by a prim, slender woman wearing a black dress and looking at the two visitors over reading glasses. The gaze of the silver-haired teacher at the door was disapproving. Her voice was hard as she asked, "How may I help you?"

Charlotte Glover had no trouble identifying the source of the teacher's hostility. She was one of many in this town who disapproved of former outlaws and the women who had married them. Any associate of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry was more than suspect. Charlotte gracefully tried to ignore the frosty reception. She said, "We would like to see Miss Hetty Bainbridge, please."

"You can find her on the second floor, working in room 202."

Upstairs, Beth and Charlotte easily found room 202, the otherwise empty classroom where Miss Bainbridge was bent over her desk, working. The middle-aged lady looked up in surprise over her reading glasses as her friend and a stranger entered.

"Good morning, Hetty," said Charlotte. "I'd like to introduce my friend Elizabeth Heyes. Beth, this is Hetty Bainbridge. Hetty, I thought you might like to have lunch with us. Mrs. Heyes and her husband are about to start fostering a fourteen-year-old boy named Marvin. Both Mr. and Mrs. Heyes are both professional teachers, but not with your experience with boys that age. I thought you'd enjoy comparing notes."

"I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Heyes," said the high school teacher, getting to her feet. "So, a pair of teachers. You sound well matched."

"Yes, we have very different backgrounds, but we both love to teach," said Beth, thinking affectionately of her unlikely mate. Mrs. Heyes added tentatively, "I don't know what you may have heard about my husband."

Miss Bainbridge observed, "I understand you and Mr. Heyes are sharing a house with the sheriff and his wife. I suppose Mr. Curry and Mr. Heyes are still partners, in a way."

Beth flushed. Her new acquaintance already knew about her scandalous husband. But the teacher seemed unfazed, so Beth explained, "Yes, that's right. Mr. Heyes and Sheriff Curry are very close friends, and they're second cousins. I'm sorry to ask for advice when we've just met – we want to tutor Marvin at home for a while. If you're busy, I certainly understand," said Beth cautiously, "but I would be happy to take you to lunch at our hotel."

"Why thank you!" exclaimed Miss Bainbridge. "I've heard very good things about your restaurant."

"That's good to hear, thank you," said Beth. "We're working hard to get the menu and the food to be really excellent. I don't have much to do with that, but Catherine Curry does a great deal with the kitchen. She'll join us for lunch."

"Oh, that's lovely. I've met her, but never really gotten to have a conversation with her. I so admire you business women," said Hetty earnestly, taking her friend Charlotte Glover into the complement.

As the three women walked down the street chatting happily together, they met up with Cat Curry. She was coming from the alley behind the hotel, where she had left the loaded wagon. Cat said, "Good afternoon, Miss Bainbridge. I hope you can come to lunch with us. Perhaps you can try one of our new luncheon specials and let me know what you think?"

The teacher, who was a very plain woman, looked pleased to be the center of attention. "That sounds delightful, Mrs. Curry. I must say, we in town are all very curious about your plans for the hotel and the dining room."

"I hope so!" Smiled Cat. "I hope it brings in people. We have great plans, but they're staying a secret for now. Well, maybe we'll share one secret dessert."

The four ladies laughed. They found a warm welcome in the hotel's restaurant, where the employees were always trying to impress the owners' wives. They sat at the secluded owners' table, where they could talk with a degree of privacy. When the ladies had placed their orders, Miss Bainbridge looked probingly at Beth and asked, "So, tell me about this boy you and Mr. Heyes will be tutoring. What sort of schooling does he have?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," said Beth. "Marvin grew up on the streets of Wyoming frontier towns without a real family. His mother, the only family he has, is a drunkard and has neglected him sadly. Now no one can even find her. Marvin has been getting some schooling at a home for troubled boys in Laramie, but only for a few months. He could barely read when he got there, though my husband thinks the boy has great ability."

Miss Bainbridge was paying close attention. She looked crisply professional as she asked. "And how did you and Mr. Heyes come to be connected with the boy?"

Beth looked uncomfortable. This was not her favorite subject. "Um, Mr. Heyes met the boy when he was briefly in prison in Wyoming."

"Your husband was there briefly or Marvin was there briefly?" Hetty inquired.

Beth hated to think of her husband behind bars, no matter how briefly. The pain showed in her brown eyes as she spoke. "Both of them, actually. My husband and his partner were imprisoned for three days, mostly to assure the public that they were being held accountable for their crimes before they were granted amnesty. Heyes tried to stop the guards when they were trying to beat Marvin, just for speaking. For that, they put my husband in solitary confinement on bread and water."

Hetty looked appalled by this. "Oh, my goodness! For defending a boy?"

Beth continued, "Yes, it was a bad place, before they replaced the wardens. Marvin was terribly impressed to have Hannibal Heyes stand up for him – perhaps the first adult who ever had. Marvin was behind bars a bit longer than my husband and his partner were, but not a lot. He had been caught picking pockets, but it was a first offense by a minor. And he worked hard at his lessons and chores, especially after what Joshua did. So, Marvin was released into the custody of the home for troubled boys."

"He was picking pockets? How long had he been stealing when they caught him?" Beth felt Miss Bainbridge's grey eyes studying her thoughtfully.

"How long? I'm not sure. It looks like you find that an important question," answered Mrs. Heyes with concern.

"I do think it's very important. It's a matter of whether theft was something new and strange to Marvin or whether it became normal for him. If he had accepted breaking the law as normal, it might be a long, hard process to teach him to respect the property and rights of others."

"Yes, it might well," Beth admitted. "I don't doubt it. Mr. Heyes and I are trying to be as ready as we can. Of course, theft is something Joshua knows well. But as to reforming thieves, that he's only done with his partner and himself. And, come to think of it, he did help to convince a former criminal colleague to go straight, as they call it. The man is quite wealthy, now."

"Yet, some might say that your husband is a strange choice to provide guidance to a thief who needs to reform . . ."

"My husband and his partner have reformed, themselves, and are making their livings honestly now. I think they are ideal for job," said Beth fervently.

"I agree, actually. I was saying some might question his qualifications, not that I do," Hetty assured her new friend. "I was just going to warn you that people outside your family and friends may sometimes cause problems for you with their doubt. You need to be ready for that, so you aren't caught flat footed by their skepticism or even hostility. Your attitude will have a lot to do with how Marvin feels about himself."

"That's very true," said Cat. "I run into doubters about Jed often, though it's a lot less common now than it was when he first got amnesty and his badge. It's a big help to me, and to him, to be granted some respect by the public."

Charlotte added, "Time passing does help people to accept what they resisted at first. When I first opened my store here, there were a lot of people who didn't think a woman could run a good business. They often told me so. Now it's rare for anyone to question it, at least to my face."

"Yes, I hope people will come to accept all of our unusual family, in time," said Beth. "I'm very proud of my husband. When we met, he wasn't sure how to go on as an honest man. After a ricocheting bullet had hit him in the head, he couldn't even speak. Now he's going to be teaching college, saving lives in a coal mine, and raising a troubled boy."

Hetty was about to ask about what had deprived Hannibal Heyes of speech when they were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter with their delicious lunch. But soon the ladies resumed their intense discussion of Marvin, Heyes, the Kid, children to come, and their businesses. Hetty learned far more about the history of Hannibal Heyes and his family.

Eventually, Charlotte looked down at the little watch suspended around her neck and told her friends that she had to return to her store. Hetty, too, had to get back to work. So, they put the bill on the Currys' tab and walked out to the hotel's long, shaded porch. Charlotte bid her friends farewell and walked back to her store. But Hetty, Beth, and Cat stood for a while discussing children.

As the three remaining ladies stood on the hotel's shaded porch, Sheriff Curry rode by on his dark bay horse at a jog trot. He tipped his hat and nodded at his wife and her companions. His bright blue eyes shown in the summer sun. A little girl in braids was coming out of the hotel with her parents. She piped up and pointed, "Golly, is that Kid Curry?"

Her neatly dressed young parents father, who seemed by his accent to be an eastern tourist, seized his daughter's little hand gently, but firmly. "Susie, it is rude to point at someone. I'm sure that gentleman is just the local sheriff."

Cat grinned in delight at being able to prove the child right. "Yes, sir, he is the local sheriff. He is also Kid Curry. He doesn't break the law any longer. He upholds it."

"Golly, you know him?" Asked the youngster in wonder.

Cat smiled at the little girl. "He's my husband."

The girl's eyes were wide. "Golly!"

Her parents seemed impressed, too. Her prim, eastern mother said, "I hope our daughter isn't bothering you, Mrs. Curry."

"Not at all," said Cat warmly. "We're glad to have your family here. We run a friendly hotel."

"Thank you!" said the little girl's father, looking as thrilled as his daughter. The family walked down the street, their eyes shining with excitement.

"It must be very romantic having a couple of heroic outlaws in the house," said Hetty enviously.

Beth modesty told her new friend, "Oh, Mr. Heyes is very nice, but he's just a man like others. He doesn't go around in his cowboy clothes with a gun at his hip these days, like his partner does. He wears suits most of the time, when he's teaching or working at the hotel. He even wears glasses."

Just then, a red-brown horse trotted rapidly by carrying a man in a black cowboy hat, hurrying to catch up with the sheriff. "Kid!" Shouted Heyes from the back of his horse, Clay.

Curry turned around and reined in his horse. "Heyes! What brings you to town? I thought you were at school."

The little girl on the hotel porch was really wide-eyed now, and Hetty Bainbridge laughed softly at Beth Heyes. Mr. Heyes was in the same full outlaw garb his wife had just said he rarely wore now, so his identity could not have been more obvious. In fact, a lot of eyes around the main street of Louisville were trained on the town's two celebrities. Not all the onlookers approved. The local Baptist preacher and his wife looked away as they hurried down the street.

The darker partner rode up beside the sheriff. He spoke quietly, so strangers would not hear him. "I was at UC, this morning. Got to ride herd on those assistants of mine. But I got done as fast as I could. I'm headed out to the Fayette Mine now. Cable and I think I'd better try to get in my work hours I promised this week, before Marvin gets here. My family will need me home as much as possible next week while the boy's settling in. It might be a few weeks before I can get back to the mine, what with school starting and home getting busy and winter coming pretty soon."

The Kid, who had much more experience of Colorado in the fall, agreed, "Yeah, it could snow before too long and close up the road to the mine. So now's the time to go. Winter's the busy season in coal mining, but the roads are tough up there in the Flatirons."

Heyes nodded. "Yeah, that's what Cable and I figured out when we talked last night at the Hotel."

Curry thought a moment. Then he suggested, "You want company on the road? I could ride out that direction a few miles, myself, to check a place where we sometimes have trouble. I haven't been out there in a while."

Heyes smiled gladly. "Sure, Kid. Just give me a minute to say good-bye to the girls. I won't be back home till tomorrow."

While Heyes steered Clay over to the hotel porch, the sheriff rode over to his office to let his deputies know where he was going. Heyes swung down from the saddle and tied his horse to the rail. "Hello sweetie, Cat. And Ma'am?" He looked curiously at the teacher to whom he had not yet been introduced, though they had seen one another around town when he had been known as Joshua Smith.

Beth kissed Heyes and said. "Hello, Joshua. Let me introduce Miss Hetty Bainbridge. She teaches high school here. She's been giving me some sage advice on coping with wayward teenaged boys."

Heyes took off his hat politely. "I'm glad to meet you under my right name, Miss Bainbridge. Beth and I both teach, but I know we have a lot to learn about bringing up a boy like Marvin. I'm sure I'll have some questions for you, if you have time for them."

Hetty smiled. "I'll be glad to help all I can, Mr. Heyes. I think it's admirable that you and Mrs. Heyes are working to help that young man."

Heyes looked pleased to have a teacher find him admirable. "Thank you, Miss. We'll both be doing our best." Seeing Cat, Beth, and Hetty sharing a grin, he asked, "What's so funny, ladies? Did my partner put a 'kick me' sign on my back? He does like to play jokes on me."

"No, Mr. Heyes," said Hetty, stifling a giggle. "But your wife was just telling us you usually dress formally these days and don't wear a gun on your hip anymore, since you're a professor now. But here you are in boots and chaps. Is this how you dressed when you were wanted by the law?"

Heyes grinned. "Yes, Miss. I do normally wear a tie and a three-piece suit these days, but right now I'm on my way out to a coal mine. The brush along the way and all that coal dust down the mine wouldn't do my best suit and good white shirt any good."

Hetty laughed musically. "I don't suppose it would. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Heyes. But I do need to get back to work. School starts next week for us, though I know you college professors have more time before the start of semester."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss," said Heyes. "I'd best be on my way, too. It's a long ride to the mine. See you tomorrow, Beth, Cat." He kissed his wife on the cheek, careful to be proper in front of Miss Bainbridge and all the other people watching.

"Please be careful, Heyes," Beth said softly.

"You bet," said her husband, giving her another brief kiss. He put his hat back on and mounted up. Beth and Cat watched fondly as their husbands loped away together toward the mountains. The unmarried woman in the group watched the pair of horsemen for a moment, then said good-bye and made her way back to work.

Farther down the street, the little tourist girl whispered gleefully to her parents, "Wow! I saw Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes, both! Right here! Maggie and Jennie back home will never believe it!"

But up the street in the other direction, a pair of wealthy ladies of Louisville looked offended to even share the town with men who used to be wanted by the law. "Disgusting criminals!" Muttered one stout matron under her breath.

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The partners slowed their mounts to a walk as they rode on the dirt road across the broad, open fields at the foot of the mountains. Riding together on their long-time mounts felt warmly familiar. For once, they weren't watching for the law or bounty hunters. They were just two men riding together. The ride was silent except for wind over the grass, the twitter of birds, the soft hoofbeats of the horses, and the squeaks of their saddles. The way was wide enough for the two horses to walk side by side. The pair fell easily into their old routines of keeping watch, Heyes taking front and left, the Kid taking back and right. Not being wanted certainly did not mean there were no possible dangers. Any riders in this country needed to watch for bandits and wolves.

After a couple of miles, Jed Curry rode closer to his partner and asked, "Say, Heyes, you ever heard from that guy who's paying for you to teach, Robert Harris?"

"No, Kid. Not a word, yet." The new professor did not sound concerned. He was enjoying this ride.

"Think he'll be in touch with you?" Asked the Kid.

Heyes chuckled. "Sure of it. He wants me on his side in the worst way. He's positive I'll help his railroad make a lot more money. Or not lose so much, anyhow."

"You nervous about it?"

"No. He's right – I can help him. Now teaching college, that I'm thinking hard about." Heyes

The Kid was puzzled. "But you've taught before. You did fine. You won an award, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But that wasn't my own class, I just took over from Charlie. He had it all planned out. And they didn't know my real name. And I didn't have a family depending on me. But still, I got to say, I can't wait to get in the classroom. I've got a bunch of ideas I want to try out, see how they do with real students." The former gang leader flashed his teeth in a grin.

The Kid asked happily, "New Hannibal Heyes plans?"

"Yeah!"

Soon the pair of horses began to climb up some rougher ground over the tumbled rocks of the Flatirons, so their riders had little time or attention for talking. It was beautiful country, with spectacular views over the plains and into the mountains opening up around them. The pines were a rich green while the aspens were starting to turn gold. The air grew cool and crisp as they climbed. A hawk circled overhead. The pair of riders stopped by a rock-strewn mountain stream to let their horses rest and drink.

"We ought to come up here fishing some time, Kid," said Heyes. "I bet that stream is full of trout."

"I bet it is," said Curry as they turned Blackie and Clay back onto the trail. "We can bring our sons one day." That made them both smile.

As they rode around a wooded bend in the trail, Sheriff Curry waved farewell with his hat. "See you later, Heyes." He pointed at a narrow trail branching off the main road. "There's an old trapper's cabin up that path. I want to go see if there's anybody been there lately. Sometimes we get some rough boys through there."

"You want backup?" Asked his partner.

Curry looked sharply at Heyes. Ever since their fistfight in West Virginia over whether Heyes would serve as his deputy, the sheriff had gone out of his way not to ask his partner to help him with anything to do with the law.

Seeing the Kid's skepticism, Heyes said, "Hey, if there's a cabin around here, I need to know about it. I'll be through here in bad weather, I'm sure. I might need it. And if there could be bandits there, the Fayette folks and I need to know that, too. It's not too far, is it?"

Curry said, "Nah, not more than a mile. Come on, if you really got time."

The pair fell silent as they rode along the rough path with pines and aspens close on either side. The former outlaws were listening and watching with care, as they had done so often in the past. When they got near the cabin, Curry silently pointed to where they would soon see it. Heyes nodded. They now went very slowly and cautiously. When the cabin came into view, Heyes pointed to the chimney, which was not smoking. That suggested no one was home. The Kid nodded and dismounted. On foot, he looked thoroughly around the little log and stone structure. After a few minutes, he returned to where Heyes was holding the horses and watching the path. The sheriff shook his head.

The Kid whispered. "No sign of anybody so far as I can see from outside, but somebody's gathered kindling around here in the last couple of weeks and left a pile by the door. And there are some old hoof prints not quite washed away. I better check inside. You want to stay outside with the horses?"

Heyes shook his head. "I can come in with you, Kid. We can ground tie these horses safely for a few minutes. Then I got to go on."

Curry nodded. They left the horses on the path and drew their pistols. They slowly and quietly approached the house. It was only a one-room cabin, so there was but one entry. Heyes and the Kid peered between the rough slats of a carelessly closed shutter over the one window. They saw no one, though the dark interior could easily be hiding a man. The door was locked, but the wooden mechanism was a primitive one that Heyes soon defeated. The Kid opened the door that slumped on leather hinges. The pair crept in on high alert, crouched, guns cocked.

A sudden motion in the dark corner startled the men. They wheeled to face the threat.

A mouse ran by the notorious pair and fled out the door.

Heyes and Curry gasped in surprise, then dissolved into laughter. They explored the dark corner and found an old bone the mouse has been gnawing.

"Gosh, Kid, why didn't you take him down?" Joked Heyes. "You could've put his tail on the wall next to the one from the stable." Curry snorted and otherwise ignored the jibe.

The pair examined the dank cabin with care but found nothing more suspicious than an empty tin can and some cold ashes on the hearth. But it was clear to their practiced eyes that someone had been there in recent weeks.

"Yeah, we've had company. It could be just some honest trapper has been staying here, or maybe somebody more dangerous. I'll have to watch this place," said the sheriff as he and Heyes walked out and over to their horses. "And I'll ask you and your pals at the Fayette Mine to give me the word if anybody turns up around here who might need our attention. See you tomorrow, Heyes. And thanks."

Heyes mounted up, winked fondly at his partner. Then he clucked to Clay and trotted down the trail. The Kid climbed into his own saddle and rode away a moment later, turning back toward town.

When Heyes arrived at the mine, he found Gordon Cable in the mine office and told him all the news. Heyes's boss nodded. "Yeah, I know about that old cabin. The Kid's right – dangerous guys stay there as often as honest trappers do. I'll keep in touch with the law about it." Cable unfolded a map on his desk. "Here, let me show you some spots that I'd like you to see down the mine. See the bracing here . . ." The two men leaned over the map, avidly conferring.

Cable straightened, with a hand on his sire back. "Ah. Well, we better stop jawing – let you get down there and see the real mine," said Cable at last. "Over at the bunk house you'll find Jethro Johnson, one of our best men, waiting for you. He'll show you where to stow your gear and take you down the mine and make sure you don't fall down a shaft. You can look at the places I was just telling you about where they'll be blasting soon and report back to me about them tonight. See you this evening, Heyes."

Heyes said, "Thanks, Gordon. I'll have a good look. See you tonight."

Heyes found the bunk house very much like those he had bunked in when he had done ranch work. A burly, broad chested young man was lying on a top bunk reading the Bible as the new engineering consultant entered. The miner sprang down from his perch and extended his coal-stained hand. "Howdy, Mr. Heyes."

Heyes took the offered hand. "Good to meet you, Mr. Johnson. Or were you one of the guys I met when I was here before?"

The miner gave a deep, booming laugh. "Yeah, I met you. But don't worry – I know everybody looks alike in coveralls in the dark down a mine."

"Yeah, you do, kinda. Though I guess a greenhorn like me sticks out a mile."

"Yeah, but you know your way around explosives." Johnson gave Heyes a canny look. The former outlaw wondered if his new colleagues were already starting to figure out his past. "Here's your bunk, right under mine. You can put your stuff in this trunk, here. And back here's a desk for you, and a book case we built out of scrap wood. I hope all that's what you need. We don't get a lot of books around here, other than the Bible."

"Yeah, I guess." Heyes. "This is nice. Thanks a bunch! There's even a lamp so I can do some charting and figuring after dark. I'll put my stuff away, then I can get suited up and go down below."

Heyes had a busy, fascinating time in the mine looking at the operations under way. He loved having so much to learn so fast. But he wondered about what the men thought of him. It was hard to know what the glances in the dense shadows meant, exchanged between so many dust-blackened strangers.

As the new engineer explored a gallery that was new to him, a strange miner's voice called "Heyes! Not that way! We found gas down there this morning. Haven't cleared it with a blast yet. We'll get to it at the end of this shift."

"Thanks! And what's your name?" Asked Heyes as he stepped back from the potentially deadly entrance. The former outlaw was uncomfortably aware of how much he depended on the miners, whom he was just meeting, to keep him from the many dangers that were new to him. If anyone didn't like working with an infamous former criminal, Heyes could be caught in a treacherous situation with no way out. He might not even realize the danger until it was too late. But thus far, the miners hadn't steered him wrong.

That evening at the end of his shift, Heyes felt relieved to ride the cage elevator back into the sunlight. "You lived through your first shift, Heyes," said Johnson, then he coughed out a mouthful of dust. "Welcome to the Fayette."

"Thanks, Johnson," said the new man. "I wouldn't have made it without you to keep me away from the bad places."

"And you found that bad charge. It could have killed me and a bunch of guys," said another man, slapping Heyes on the back. "So you're earning your keep." The men around Heyes laughed warmly. He was already finding a place here. And he was coming to appreciate the close camaraderie of miners, who saved each other from danger on a daily basis. Heyes was glad of his decision to bunk with the men instead of the boss.

But as his shift mates slowly climbed out of their dust-blackened coveralls and boots, Heyes was hurrying. It seemed to take forever to brush the coal dust out of his hair and he gave up on his fingernails. "What's the rush, Heyes?" Asked Johnson, looking up from reading his bible again on his bunk. His sniffed appreciatively as two fellow miners fixed supper in the bunkhouse kitchen.

"I got to report to Cable tonight," answered Heyes as he shook yet more coal dust out of his socks.

"Is he gonna feed you?" Asked a miner named Finnegan. "We're having trout Knox caught on his day off!"

"I don't know. Guess I'll find out." Now Heyes was pulling up his pants.

"If he don't, hurry back, or you'll go hungry," laughed Knox, the fisherman. His fellow miners laughed and shook their fingers at the new man. "Be back quick!"

Heyes took the men at their word. He hurriedly finished dressing and trotted the few yards from the bunkhouse to the mine office. He found it empty.

Puzzled, Heyes stepped outside into the cool evening air. The sun was low in the sky and shadows gathered around the mountain slopes. Heyes saw lamplight in the windows of Cable's stone home. So that must be where Heyes boss would meet him. The new engineer felt his stomach growl. He hoped the evening report to his boss would include dinner.

Heyes knocked on the door, feeling a bit nervous in his informal clothing. Gordon Cable opened the door with a broad smile. "Come on in, Professor!"

"Yeah, congratulations!" Cried Clarence Martin, a local mine owner who had been one of the wealthy locals on the University of Colorado board who had played poker with Heyes on his last visit to the mine. "We're mighty tickled to have you teaching for us."

Indeed, as Heyes walked into the formal entry, he found the whole group of board member poker players from his last visit waiting for him. They all shook his hand and congratulated him on his new position.

"What happened to my report on those danger spots, boss?" Asked Heyes.

"Well, you need dinner, and my wife's fixed a fine one for us all. We can't let it get cold, can we? You can remember your report until tomorrow, can't you?" Asked Cable playfully. He led the group of chattering men back toward the formal dining room. "And besides, we have to celebrate our new professor."

"Well, I guess," said Heyes. "Since I'm staying the night this time. Since today's Friday, no church to get to in the morning this time."

"And maybe a little poker for dessert?" Suggested the burly Martin, gesturing as if to deal cards.

"Well, maybe. I don't have a bunch of cash," said Heyes, reluctant to be staked again. Sooner or later it would be bound to go badly.

"We'll keep it small stakes," said Cable, "but these gentlemen do want another shot at you."

"I guess that's only fair," said Heyes. "I just hope I don't lose my shirt. My wife and I are about to start fostering a boy and we have our own baby on the way. I need cash coming in, not going out!"

"Then you better play your best," laughed another wealthy mind owner, winking at the infamous former outlaw. "But right now, I'm hungry!"

With that, Heyes could not argue. He just hoped the wealthy men would not be too rapacious at the poker table later that evening.

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"Marvin! Marvin!" Called a young voice in the barn at the home for troubled boys. "Where are you?"

There was no answer, but Teddy Cochran knew where to look. He found Marvin Mosley in the stall of his favorite horse, carefully grooming the animal.

"You're gonna miss him as much as any of us, ain't you?" Said Marvin's friend.

Marvin kept currying and brushing as he spoke. "Well, maybe. Maybe I'll have my own horse when I'm in Colorado. I hope so, but Heyes don't have a lot of money."

"What do think it's gonna be like, having Hannibal Heyes for your pa?" Asked Teddy, a skinny blond boy with freckles.

"I don't know. I never had a pa before." Marvin sounded thoughtful.

"Ain't you excited to live with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?" Asked Teddy. "You're leaving day after tomorrow!"

"Yeah, maybe it'll be good," said Marvin. "But they got wives, too. Hope they don't want me to be a sissy."

"Ah, come on. Would Heyes and the Kid have married girls like that?"

"I don't know. Mrs. Heyes is a teacher." The two boys stuck out their tongues at that. "But Mrs. Curry used to run a saloon. She might be alright."

"I thought you talked to Heyes about everything," said Teddy, patting he horse as he talked.

"Well, not everything. We didn't have time for that. But I think he'll be a good pa. I hope so. Otherwise, I'll be in trouble."

"You're used to trouble, "said Teddy sagely.

"Yeah. And so's Heyes. That, I know," said Marvin.


	6. Chapter 6

The mantel clock struck 11:00 with an echoing little brass gong. Leo Gianneli, a mine owner with a curly black mustache, sighed and tossed his cards on the table. He was the last of the wealthy men around the table to surrender to the poorest man there. "I'm out, Heyes."

Heyes scooped up the pile of chips. "Then that leaves me. It still doesn't get me out of the hole. But I've had enough. You guys have taught me a lesson, low stakes or not. I'm done."

"Come on, Heyes," pleaded mine owner Clarence Martin, "you aren't down much. And you're getting hot. One more pot and you'd be on top."

The infamous retired outlaw gave his new friends a sidelong smile. "Or deeper in the hole. I can't risk it. I don't have your, um, resources. And I have a family. Maybe another time, gentlemen."

"It's not even midnight, Heyes!" Exclaimed their host, and Heyes' boss, Gordon Cable.

"I told you I'd close down early. You guys can play all you like, but if I walk into that bunkhouse at midnight, those hard-working, early-rising coal miners will lynch me. It'll be bad enough now," said Heyes as Cable changed his chips for slightly fewer bills than he had turned in at the beginning of the game. The consulting engineer tucked his remaining cash into his wallet and stood up to go. "And besides, I need to report to you in the morning, Gordon, and then get home in time to get some work done. Our new foster son, Marvin, arrives on Monday. I told you all about him. There's a lot to get done before then."

"A hard-working thief? Who would have thought it?" Joked young mine manager Angel Gregorio. The poker players all laughed, but not cruelly. They knew Heyes had long been straight.

"You sure you won't take some brandy to salve your feelings before you go to bed?" Asked Cable, standing and pointing to an elegant crystal decanter on the side board. "And you're welcome to stay in my guest room."

Heyes looked hungrily at the decanter for a long moment and swallowed. Then he ran his left thumb across the silver ring Beth had given him for their engagement. Heyes looked away from the tempting liquor. "No thank you, sir. It's bad enough that I play with you when I ought to be asleep. The men will be expecting me."

Cable laughed. "When did you get so upright and dependable, Heyes? You don't act like any outlaw I ever heard of. You wouldn't even take whiskey and cigars while the rest of us have been enjoying them," said Cable.

Heyes grinned self-consciously. "Upright, maybe not, when I'm sitting here at a poker table. My wife might argue with you. But what makes you think outlaws – retired outlaws - can't be dependable? When we want to be, that is."

Cable slapped his new consultant on the shoulder. "Sometimes I think I hired a dull old engineer, and a pretty darned good one."

"I hope you still think that when you get my report in the morning," chuckled Heyes. "There's nothing immediately dangerous in the places you asked about, as I told you earlier, or I'd have made sure you saw it right away. But there are some changes I'd like to see, longer term. Not always cheap or easy ones."

Cable grinned. "Well, I know one dependable outlaw. I'll be glad to hear what you have to say." He winked at his new consultant. "Report to my dining room in the morning, Heyes. Not before 9 o'clock, please. I'll serve you a good breakfast, if you can wait that long. But we men who are staying have some poker to play yet. High stakes."

"See you in the morning, boss," said Heyes. "And see the rest of you next time we sit down together. Or over at the University."

"Next time, outlaw, no low stakes! You don't need it!" Said Martin. "Your cards were cold as ice most of the night and you still almost broke even." The whole table laughed. Heyes shrugged modestly. He enjoyed their respect for his skills.

"Give my best to Mrs. Heyes, and your partner and his wife," said Giannelli. "And when your new foster son is settled in, bring him out to my mine so I can meet him and he can see the business."

"I will. Thanks, Leo," said Heyes.

The other men had similar good wishes and good offers. Heyes thanked them all and said, "Goodnight, gentlemen."

As he walked out of the gaming room and started down the hall, Heyes realized he had left his black hat behind. He walked back down the hall to get it, but stopped when he heard voices emanating from the room where the poker players were starting up their late-night high-stakes game. The door was open a crack.

"Two for me. Cable, are you really sure you can trust that guy?"

Heyes froze. He wasn't sure whose the questioning voice was, but the subject of the question was unmistakably himiself. Heyes thought the speaker might be Lou Hart, a mine owner who was not on the University of Colorado board. Heyes had thought all these men trusted him, though he didn't know Hart as well as the rest. He paused outside the door to hear his boss's reply to this question. Of course, he didn't dare to go back into the room for his hat. He could get it in the morning.

Cable said, "I've known Heyes for six years. He's a good man. And he's brilliant at just the kind of calculations we need. Of course, I trust him."

"Come on," said the first voice. "Sure, he's brilliant. At theft and confidence games! He could take you, or me, or anybody, any time he wanted to. We beat him tonight because he let us. A guy that slick - we might not even know he'd taken us."

"Yeah, of course that's true. I know." Heyes felt a chill go down his spine, hearing his friend and boss say those words. He knew he should leave. There was no place in the hall to hide. If he were caught eaves dropping, embarrassment would be the least of his problems. It could be a disaster – proof he was not trustworthy. But the former criminal had to hear what these powerful, wealthy men really thought of him. It could be crucial. And Heyes was just plain curious.

Cable went on. "But he doesn't want to take us."

"How do you know that? How can you be sure? He's a famous liar. Didn't you know him under an alias until just this spring?"

"Yeah, of course. He used an alias with everyone. He had to, while he and his partner were going for amnesty. That was one of the conditions of the deal. The Kid told me about it. And I know Heyes won't take us because it would be stupid. He's not stupid. There would be a chance he could get caught. If he got caught doing anything wrong, they'd lock him up for the rest of his life. I hate to think what would happen to his family. Like he said about playing more tonight, he can't risk it. I don't know if he really cares about breaking the law, or breaking his word. I think so, though I be could wrong. But I am positive he cares about his wife and family. No doubt about it. He'd never do anything that could hurt them - not for anything."

Heyes flushed to think of what he had already done to hurt Beth and their unborn child only a few days before. He silently swore to himself that he would never be so selfish again. He knew he should leave, but he had to know what would be said next.

"Well, I guess I see why you could hire him for the mine. His family is hostage for his good behavior, poor things. But to teach at the University?"

Martin spoke up. "We all trust him." Heyes smiled to himself with satisfaction, but the board member went on. "Robert Harris, the railroad board director who's paying Heyes' salary, trusts him. He's heard all kinds of testimonials and seen the results of his studies. And besides, like any new professor, Heyes is on one year's probation. If he slips up, Harris promised to pay to find and hire a replacement. So, we're safe, either way."

Heyes' smile vanished. He knew about the probation, of course, and he had guessed about Robert Harris, but hearing a new friend state the situation in that calculating way hurt.

There was a burst of talk from several men at once, including a call for more play and less talk. Under cover of the many voices, Heyes escaped down the hall and out the door.

He stood for a moment in the dark yard, taking deep breaths of cold, clear mountain air. He felt glad to be out of the smoky gaming room and away from the cynical men playing.

As Heyes walked across the rocky ground to the bunkhouse, shivering in the mountain, he ran his thumb along his ring again. He whispered, "Beth." Cable was right about the former thief's motivations. But hearing the questions of his fellow poker players reminded Heyes painfully that he was far from having totally proven himself to the law-abiding world. It would take time. He wondered if the coal miners were also suspicious despite their evident acceptance of their new colleague. No one had said they knew his first name, but he sure they did.

The moon had set long before, leaving only the light of the stars above the mountain peaks and between gathering clouds. Heyes was glad to see the sift light of a kerosene lamp burning in the bunkhouse window to guide him to his new home away from home.

Very early the next morning, as the miners ate and dressed they all kept grinning. They mimed waking the new engineer by doing noisy things like dropping their steel-toes boots or banging frying pans. But in fact, they tip-toed out of the bunkhouse toward the mine entrance as quietly as dozens of very large, clumsy mice as Heyes lay in his bunk. When the door had closed behind the last of them, Heyes turned over to get a little more sleep before he got up to write and present his report.

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Rain fell gently on Louisville while the Heyes and Curry families had a quietly busy Saturday morning. Heyes was presenting his report on the coal mine's safety concerns to Gordon Cable over a tasty breakfast of bacon and pancakes with plenty of black coffee. Meanwhile, Mrs. Heyes was in her bedroom hemming muslin to make Marvin's sheets, while Cat was working on menus and recipes with the head chef at the Hideout.

The Kid rode over to Boulder. He had been through too many torrents to let the rain damped his pleasure in his return to freedom and mobility after having his leg in a cast for so long. But it reminded him of the coming winter. In a very few weeks, there could be snow falling in Louisville. His jail, hotel, and house and all the people who depended on him needed to be ready for the long, cold Colorado winter. So, this was a good time for running errands that could be impossible in a few weeks.

The Kid's first errand took him to the sheriff's office. It still made him a bit nervous to walk into a law office other than his own. He still felt the old urge to glance at the wanted posters as he had for years to see if his own name appeared. He was greeted by Davy Brevort, the tall, lean chief sheriff of Boulder County, and therefore Curry's superior in the county. "Howdy, Jed. Good to see you back on your feet. Come on back to my office."

"Hello, Davy. I'm glad to have that cast off. I couldn't shoot right with it on," said the Kid as he walked past a pair of staring deputies and sat in the chair Brevort pulled up for him next to his own desk in a back office.

"Oh, no," said the grey-haired sheriff with a straight face but a sparkle in his eye. "You couldn't hardly do nothing." Thinking of how many heroics Curry had pulled off during his short time in his new position, the senior lawman shook his head in wonder.

The Kid played along with the joke, stating solemnly, "I'll try to do better, now. I brought you that report you asked for about what all we've been doing in my jurisdiction."

Brevort had a brief look through the stack of papers, while Jed squirmed. Finally, he said, "All this looks in order. I'll finish reading it later and let you know if I got any questions. I'm glad you write so I can read it. I never could make heads or tails of Wilde's chicken scratch."

Curry confessed. "Actually, I had Deputy Healy write it."

Brevort replied in his rusty baritone, "As long as somebody does. How are your deputies doing for you?"

Curry smiled. "Young as they are, both of them have darned good sense. Especially Healy. But I got no complaints about Kelly, aside of that smirk on his face."

"He's not drinking?" Asked the senior sheriff.

The Kid shook his head. "Not that I've seen any sign of. He does good work. I've got both those boys studying wanted posters and local law and all the usual stuff. They're hard workers."

"Especially Healy?" Asked Brevort leadingly.

"Both of them." Curry didn't want his superior to harbor suspicions of a good deputy just because he had a bit of a rocky past. His own past was far worse.

"It's good to hear that you're happy with those boys. What else is going on over in Louisville?" The two lawmen fell to discussing petty thieves, drunkards, and the usual details of law enforcement in a western town.

As Curry rode back through Boulder after the meeting, he looked around a street of full of saloons, houses of ill repute, and bail bondsmen. He soon found what he was looking for – a pawn shop. Curry tied Blackie in front of the saloon next door and gave his horse a pat on the neck. After a quick beer and a look around to see if he recognized any local trouble makers or old friends, Curry paid up. Out front, he took off his badge, tucked it into his saddle bag, and went into the pawn shop. He sniffed around the dark, chaotic little shop in search of items recently reported stolen in the area. He made a quick tour of the place, then paused in front of a glass case full of pocket watches near the front counter.

The dusty little shopkeeper approached, noting Curry's tied down revolver with some trepidation. Like most pawnbrokers, he appeared to have a good acquaintance with guns and the men who used them. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Have you had any watches brought in in the last week?" Asked the sheriff of Louisville.

The pawnbroker frowned. He knew the law when he met up with it, badge or no badge. "Yes, sheriff. That one in the top left corner came in on Thursday. And the one next to on Wednesday. Would you like to see them?"

"Nah, not what I'm after. Can I see the pistols you've gotten in recently?" Curry wasn't surprised or upset to have the pawnbroker realize what he was really doing there, so long as the man kept his voice low. The removal of his badge was a lot more directed at fellow customers who might be hocking stolen goods.

The pawnbroker invited Curry into his backroom, where he unlocked a secured drawer. "Is there anything there on your list?"

Curry examined the weapons closely. He checked some serial numbers. "No, nothing here. Thanks."

"You wouldn't consider selling that Colt on your hip?"

Curry laughed. "Never! That's my life!"

Done with official business, and not having spotted any suspicious fellow customers, Jed wandered around the shop. He could feel the shopkeeper watching him, still. "Could you see your way clear to taking a little off the price for these spurs?"

"Hm. You have good taste. I couldn't take much off. The silver work is the best quality and the straps are hand dyed and braided horse hair by a real artist from Mexico."

The shop keeper waited while Curry considered this, his arms crossed.

To sweeten the deal, the seller added, "I was told they once belonged to Kid Curry himself."

The Kid burst out laughing. "No, they sure didn't. When I was wanted, I never wore anything that fancy. Would have drawn attention."

The surprised pawnbroker joined in the laughter. "Well, that's one on me. Guess the seller told me wrong. They've been known to. Gilding the lily in this case – those spurs and straps really are works of art. You're looking to fancy up, now that you have amnesty, Mr. Curry?"

Curry grinned and his blue eyes sparkled. "Maybe. More likely, I'd hang 'em on the wall. They are pretty. What price can you give me?"

The pawnbroker and the famed gunman haggled a bit, but Curry finally shook his head. "Too much, right now. I have too many bills to pay. Maybe later."

"They could sell any day," prompted the pawnbroker.

"But not to me today," said the Kid, closing the subject. He poked around the shop a little longer, eying a mounted antelope head and an old Indian bow, but he wanted to consult with Cat and Heyes before he spent on things to decorate the hotel. They had a lot of irons in the fire, and some were pricey. He left the store, and walked over to another nearby pawnshop in Boulder, and then another, continuing his searches for stolen goods and for colorful western decor. He kept mental notes.

Then the sheriff from Louisville rode to a better part of town to visit the source of two of his larger pending bills. He brushed dust off his vest, refastened his sheriff's badge there, straightened his hat, and strolled into an elegant storefront with a gracefully lettered sign.

He walked up to the desk of F. V. Harold Carriage Company. The immaculately dressed young clerk standing there asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Curry said, "I would like to check on two orders. My name is Jedediah Curry."

The clerk looked through a large, leather-bound ledger book. "Ah. Here are your orders, Mr. Curry. The sleigh we are renovating, repainting, striping, and lettering for you will be done next week. We will deliver it to you soon thereafter. And the new surrey being custom striped and lettered for you is complete. We are just giving the varnish time to cure. We can deliver the vehicle to you next week – just let us know the day. Would you like to see the surrey?"

"Great!" Said Curry eagerly. Then he remembered that a hotel owner needed to be dignified and reined in his enthusiasm. "Yes, I would be glad to see it. You're keeping the lettering secret as we asked?"

"Of course, sir. We will make sure the lettering is covered during the deliveries."

Curry nodded. "Very good. We'll have the check for you on delivery for each vehicle, of course. Now, let's see that surrey."

The clerk led the sheriff back to the workshop where master craftsmen in leather aprons planed wood, fitted wheels, and painted stylish stripes. There were strong smells of freshly cut wood, paint, and varnish. In the back of the shop stood several newly completed carriages.

On the end of the row of fancy carriages and buggies, behind a screen, stood Jedediah Curry's order. The gleaming burgundy surrey had red and yellow striping and three rows of luxurious leather seats under a rich red canopy. On each side, fancy gold and black lettering read "The Hideout, Louisville, Colorado, Messrs. Curry and Heyes, Proprietors." Curry inspected every detail, getting so close that the clerk had to warn him not to touch the surrey for fear he would mar the newly applied finish. The former-outlaw could find no flaw. It was magnificent. He could not restraint a brilliant smile. He was as pleased as a little boy with a new toy. Guests of his new hotel would arrive from the train station and travel around the area in true style. And when the hotel didn't need the fancy gig, the proprietors and their brides could travel in comfort and advertise the business simultaneously. Jed Curry could hardly wait to unveil the hotel and its fine signature vehicles.

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The rain had stopped by the time Hannibal Heyes got home. He rubbed down and watered his horse, then headed into the house with his saddlebags slung over his shoulder. The former lock picker felt exceptionally virtuous for using a key rather than his trusty old pick locks to open the back door.

Beth called out, "Who is it?"

"Me, Heyes!" Her husband answered. He followed the beloved voice to their bedroom. He found his wife just finishing up a long day of sewing. As she stood up, he gave her a kiss.

"Looky here, honey!" Heyes proudly held out his first paycheck from the Fayette Mine. "Ain't that pretty?"

Beth gave Heyes an adoring smile. "Glorious - but it doesn't compare to the man who earned it." She put her arms around her husband's waist and gave him a happy hug. "I'm glad you didn't gamble it away to those mine owners."

A guilty smile crept across Heyes' face. "Well, I did lose a bit last night. But Cable knew enough not to pay me until the morning, after I gave him my report. I didn't lose much, honestly. I told them low stakes or nothing."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie," said Beth, kissing Heyes on the cheek. "You've had to give up a lot to be my husband – I don't want you to stop having fun. I know you enjoy poker, and nobody wins all the time. Just as long as you don't lose more than we can afford. Or get too tired to go out dancing."

Heyes put his arms around Beth again and kissed her at length.

But eventually, the pair had to part and get some work done. Beth got busy polishing Marvin's bass bed stead and then installing linens on the bed, after Heyes brought in the mattress. Heyes worked in the sunny yard, sanding and painting scuffed old hotel furniture for Marvin, and also for Beth and himself. He whistled contentedly while he worked, despite the sweat running down his back and into his eyes.

He straightened up for a moment, paintbrush in hand, to rest his back. He saw Beth standing on the porch. She had brought out a glass of cool well water for her husband. "You seem awfully happy, for a man working so hard on a warm day," she observed.

"You bet!" explained Heyes. He strode over to the pitch and downed his water in a couple of long swallows. "I'm happy as any clam. I've got my gal." He kissed his wife touched her belly gently. "And our family coming along."

Beth asked, "Can you please come in for a moment to help me with the curtain rods?"

"Of course. I'll be just as glad to get out of the sun for a minute. But while we're out here, what do you think of the chests and the desks?"

"Much improved. Thank you! That warm cream color will look fine with the yellow trim on the curtains and the blond wood moldings."

While the Heyes were working in the nursery, they heard the Kid's voice crying, "Hello!" as he came in with Cat. "Who's home?"

Heyes stuck his head into the hall, "Both of us!"

Cat walked back to the nursery while her husband went to the stable to take care of the wagon horses and his own mount, Blackie. "Wow, you're really making a nice bedroom out of it. I saw the painted furniture outside drying. It's real nice."

"Thank you," said Heyes, climbing down a step ladder from where he had just finished putting up the new curtains. "I can tell you right now, Marvin's never had a room anywhere near this nice to sleep and keep his things. I can't wait to see his face when he sees his room."

"I can just imagine where he's been," said Cat. "This will be a great step up for him. But it for us, too. This is a fine house and you two are making it even finer. I've never lived anyplace a tenth this nice."

Beth sat on the newly made bed. "Yes, it's going to be a good place to raise our families. When we add on those two new rooms, there will plenty of space inside for the children. And lots of yard to play in. It's a beautiful home."

"Well, the Kid and I have never had a real home," said Heyes. "This is great. It gives me ideas for when we get our own place. I know you'll want us out of your hair eventually. I can't thank you enough for wanting us here now, Cat."

Cat smiled. "You know we're happy to have you as long as you want to stay. But right now, I'd better go start dinner. No home is nice if you're hungry."

"I'll help," said Beth. "I'm done here, at least for now."

There was a lot of excited hotel and family planning over dinner. "Can't wait for you to see that surrey, Heyes," said Jed. "Fancy! It's like the kinda thing we used to dream about having when we were stealing."

Heyes quipped, "But in America, not Bolivia."

They all laughed.

"I know it's expensive," said the Kid, "but I hope it'll bring in more money in the end."

"Are you going to get Marvin a horse?" Asked Cat.

"Well see," said Heyes. "He hasn't ridden a lot yet. I hear he's good with the horses at the home. We'll, see how responsible he is taking care of animals and how our finances are. Do you think he can ride one of the hotel's string for a little while, while he's learning to ride better and we're seeing how he behaves?"

"Sure," said the Kid through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Cat elbowed him.

"Table manners!" She hissed at him under her breath. "I won't have you teaching our children to be rude."

Jed swallowed and muttered. "Sorry."

Beth giggled and elbowed Heyes. "See, Heyes, you aren't the only one getting ridden. We all have a lot to learn, what with a new business, new jobs, and new children. But we can help each other. We're doing it all together."

"Together!" said Heyes, lifting his glass of beer.

His three closest friends joined the toast. "Together!"

"Curry and Heyes, Heyes and Curry!" added the Kid. "One family."

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The surrey Jed ordered is based on one I saw in a 19th-century advertisement. The carriage maker is an invented business, but based on many real ones across the country.


	7. Chapter 7

Heyes and the Kid grinned at each other as they sedately walked their wives up the aisle of the Methodist church at the end of the sermon. They both felt unaccustomedly virtuous to be in church in their Sunday suits. Having sat near the front of the congregation, they were now near the back of the line of churchgoers visiting with the preacher as they left. The line moved slowly.

Cat caught a twinkle in her husband's blue eyes and an answering gleam in Heyes' brown ones. "What's the joke with you boys, this time?"

The Kid lied in public out of sheer habit, "Oh, nothing, honey."

"Well, I don't know about you," said Heyes, enjoying being able to be honest at last, "but I was thinking about that time we met two nuns when we were driving cattle . . ."

"One of them was really a nun . . ." The Kid broke in to correct Heyes

"As I was saying" Heyes cleared his throat and gave his partner a momentary mock glare for interrupting his story. "They wanted to know if we were church going regulars. Things got kind of uncomfortable, 'cause we had to admit we weren't."

"Just lookin' at us dusty drovers, those ladies should've known better," said the Kid.

"Well, you both are family men and church-going regulars now," said Beth with a playful sparkle in her brown eyes and a grin at Cat, "or reasonably regular, for retired you-know-whats. Especially a certain upright leading citizen we all know." Cat winked at her husband and Beth giggled. The Kid had already suffered a tiresome amount of ribbing on this topic after he had arranged the substitute minister the previous week. The sheriff sighed and rolled his eyes.

But Heyes embraced the idea. "Yes, so we are, now. What's wrong with that? Aside of the spiritual benefits, coming to services is a good way to get to know our new Louisville neighbors." He smiled at the man in front of him in line who had turned to see who was behind him talking about new neighbors.

"Pardon me," said the rotund gentleman in side whiskers and a new suit. He looked a bit younger than Heyes, "Did you say you are new in town? Welcome to Louisville. My name is Theo Griffin, and this is my wife, Martha." He put out a friendly hand which Heyes took gratefully.

"Nice to meet you both. My name is Heyes and this is my wife, Elizabeth." The two ladies smiled at each other, but Beth was hesitant. She had a feeling that if Heyes had used his first name, the greeting might not have been so warm.

"Mr. Griffin runs the mercantile. And what do you do, Mr. Heyes?" Asked the petite, stylish Mrs. Griffin.

Heyes quickly decided which of his many temporary professional secrets would be the safest to let out in present company. "I just hired on at the University of Colorado in Boulder."

"Oh, what do you do there?" Asked Mr. Griffin.

"I'll be teaching mathematics," said Heyes. "It seems like a fine school."

"Goodness!" Bubbled Mrs. Griffin. "A professor! How impressive!"

Heyes bowed to her gallantly, with a twinkle in his eyes as he enjoyed impressing this silly woman. "Thank you, madam!"

Mrs. Griffin asked, "Where do you live, Mrs. Heyes? I would be happy to have you to tea some day soon."

Beth said, knowing the invitation was terribly likely to be withdrawn when the truth about her husband came out, "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Griffin. We're about a mile outside of town."

While the two women were talking, Mr. Griffin glanced at the couple standing behind Heyes and Beth. He looked back at Heyes, then at the Kid, who was wearing his badge. The stout businessman flushed and leaned over to whisper something in his wife's ear. Mrs. Griffin's eyes widened in horror and she clapped her hand to her mouth as she gasped, "Oh!"

There was an awkward moment of pointed, wide-eyed silence before Mr. Griffin and Mrs. Griffin came to the head of the line to speak with the reverend, so they could turn away from the Heyes without seeming as rude as they would have otherwise. But now that the Griffins knew who the couples in line behind them were, the sudden withdrawal of welcome was clear. The whispers the former outlaws heard from the churchgoers behind them did not sound complementary. The couple behind the Currys drew back. The new professor took his wife's hand. Being married to Hannibal Heyes, Beth knew that she would have to get used to some rejections from Louisville society. She gave his hand a squeeze – she understood. Cat sighed softly to her husband. She was long used to social snubs.

The Griffins spoke only very briefly and softly with Reverend Packer before they hurried away without looking back. Then it was the Heyes turn to speak with the lanky grey-bearded preacher.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Heyes," said the reverend, extending his hand. "I know your reception by other parishioners may not be what you could wish just at first. I only hope that they and you can be patient and Christian with each other" he raised his voice slightly, speaking as much to the few remaining parishioners in line as he did to the Heyes themselves. The people behind the Curry's in the line were openly watching and listening to their reverend speaking with the new local celebrities. The local citizenry was tolerably used to seeing Kid Curry in the street, but seeing him with his pregnant wife and his partner was still a novelty, especially in church.

"Thank you, Reverend," said Heyes gratefully, taking his hand. "We do appreciate that. Its a shame Elizabeth has to suffer for my sinful past. She's been upright all her life." Some young woman behind Curry giggled. Marrying a notorious outlaw was evidently not her idea of being upright.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. It is a shame either of you should feel any lack of welcome," said the Reverend regretfully. "Considering the brave service Sheriff Curry puts in for this town, people should give his partner every opportunity to prove himself to be an honorable man."

"That's nice a' you to say that about me, Reverend," said the Kid. "I know the Green River Kid got safe up to Wyoming. How'd your talk wth him go?"

Reverend Packer shook his head. "He's a troubled young man. I tried to give him some comfort. But you know his dire legal situation. I could do nothing about that."

Curry nodded grimly. They both knew that Cody Laurence was likely to hang for murder.

"But I hope we won't be too late for another young man from Wyoming," said Beth. "Joshua and I will be fostering a fourteen year-old boy. He arrives tomorrow."

"How very charitable of you!" Exclaimed Reverend Packer.

"Well, he's an orphan, like both of us," said Heyes, holding his wife's hand. "So we feel for him."

"Do you plan to bring him to church?" Asked the reverend.

"Oh, yes," said Beth earnestly. "That's important to us."

"Good! I hope to meet him soon," said the reverend. "And I hope you're continuing to be well, Mrs. Curry." When Cat had assured the reverend of her good health, the line moved on past the Heyes and Curry families. There was still plenty of whispering among the few families in line behind the two families of celebrities. There were also a few men and families inconspicuously lingering in the street and on the boardwalks to watch the Currys and Heyes leaving church.

"Now the town is going to know about Marvin in a hurry. You know what gossips they are," whispered Heyes to Beth, putting his arm protectively around her shoulder.

Beth whispered back, "I know, you worry when the public knows things. But if they don't know, they speculate. Wild speculation could hurt Marvin. I hope you noticed what I didn't say about him."

"Yeah, my good, thoughtful girl." Heyes gave his sweetie a loving squeeze as they walked to the hotel, where their wagon and horses were waiting. Jed and Cat were coming along not far behind them, hand in hand. Many eyes followed them. A little boy tried to hide behind a hitching post to watch the famous retired outlaws. Three young women loitered purposefully in front of the dry goods store, which was closed, on a Sunday. The four celebrities did their best to pretend not to notice. They were growing used to unwanted attention.

As they got to their hotel, Jed leaned over and muttered to his partner, "Don't you want to ask 'em what they think they're staring at? Like we would have in the old days?"

Cat answered before Heyes could, "Oh, they know who they're staring at – the handsomest men in the county."

"At the least," laughed Beth, "at the very least."

The four had a busy Sunday of hotel and school work, and house work, instead of the rest good churchgoers were supposed to take on the sabbath. They were glad to sit down to the excellent dinner Cat had fixed.

"So, in between his lessons and going to church, that boy, Marvin is gonna do some chores, right?" Asked Jed between bites of fried chicken. "Cause when school starts so you and Beth are both away a lot and Cat gets close to her time, we are gonna need help around here."

"Of course, Kid," said Heyes. "He does chores at the home and he'll do chores here. Just not so much we make him want to run away like we did, alright?"

Curry nodded. "Sure, partner. Well let him go fishing now and then."

"He is a boy, after all," said Beth. "He needs some time for fun and for making friends his own age."

"He really like horses. Can we borrow one of the hotel horses for him to ride? Just until I get money to buy him one?" Asked Heyes.

"You bet, as long as he takes good care of it," said the top hotel owner.

"You aren't going to let him ride off wherever he wants?" Asked Cat, doubting this even as she asked.

"No, we will not," said Beth firmly. "He likes to ride and needs to be able to get out. But Heyes and I have agreed. Marvin needs to let us – one of us or you two - know where he is and where he's going, all the time."

"All the time?" Asked the Kid skeptically. "Really? A boy fourteen years old?"

"You mean an ex-con," Heyes corrected him, falling into the mode of lecturing as if he was in front of a class. "And it's more freedom than he had at the home for troubled boys. I know we can't watch him all the time. But at least at first, until we know how far we can trust him, we always need to know where he is. If he goes off and doesn't let us know, or lies about where, he'll get punished. No riding for a week, or whatever works. I don't want to hit him like they did in prison. Taking away privileges will work better and teach him not to be rough with other folks. When he's earned our trust, he can get more freedom, which is the best reward.

And we really need to make the rules as few as possible and crystal clear to him – make it easy to know what we expect of him. We can't assume anything. He's not coming from a regular family like we did, back before the war. He grew up in fancy houses and on the street, until he got to prison and the home. What we think is just common sense behavior may not seem that way to Marvin. So we all need to know and agree on the rules and keep to them so we don't ague and confuse the boy. It's your house, but he's our son."

This led to a long, detailed discussion. There was some disagreement, but not much. The four shared many values. The differences between Heyes and Beth had been worked out in private long before. The Currys and the Heyes had talked about Marvin some earlier, but now they went over every detail. Finally, they agreed on everything.

"So, do you want me to write out the rules?" Asked Heyes at last.

"No!" Three voices cried almost in unison. Beth and Cat were giggling. Heyes sighed but didn't argue.

"We've got it Heyes, we've got the plan," the Kid assured him. "It ain't that hard. Now, let Cat go put her feet up. And you and me got work to do before we turn in."

Cat was glad to do as her husband suggested. She was more than six months pregnant and had been hard at work all day. While the men bedded down the horses for the night, Beth washed the dishes. When she was done, she went to find Heyes. She had heard the men come in from the stable some time before, but now she didn't see her husband in their bedroom or the parlor or on either of the porches. She called for him down the hall, "Heyes?" She got no reply.

Beth thought for a moment. Then she looked out the back door. The sun had set behind the towering rockies in the western distance, but the sky was still shades of deep blue with paler clouds and a lingering warm glow in the west. A dark form was backlit standing beside a small oak tree the Kid had planted a few days before.

Beth went to where her husband stood, gazing silently at the mountains. As she came close he turned to smile at her in the twilight and opened his arms. Beth snuggled up to her man, warm in his embrace as a cool breeze ruffled the tree leaves and the grass. The pair stood together in contented, loving silence, watching the sky turn violet and then black as the stars came out in their countless thousands.

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Hannibal Heyes rode into town that bright Monday morning in his best suit. He hoped no one could tell how fast his heart was beating. He dismounted and tied Clay by a water trough in front of the hotel that would soon be named The Hideout. The former outlaw patted his horse fondly and loosened the saddle cinch. He got a folder full of papers out of his saddle bags, and sat down on a rocking chair on the hotel's shaded porch.

He had been meditatively studying the papers and rocking for only a few minutes when a bellhop appeared from the hotel and started to ask in a crisp, official voice, "Sir, are you staying . . . Oh, I am sorry Mr. Heyes. When I see somebody sit down who didn't come out of the lobby, I generally have to chase them off."

Heyes stood up and said sheepishly, "I know, Tony. Don't feel bad. I used to get chased a bunch worse than that."

The teenaged bellhop grinned. "I guess so, sir. Not now, eh?"

"We'll see about that," answered the part-owner of the hotel. "Oh well, I better do what I came for. Is Mr. Chase around?"

"Yes, sir. He's at the front desk training a new guy."

Heyes nodded to the bellhop. "Good. Thanks, Tony."

Heyes found the hotel manager just where Tony had said he would be, standing behind the front desk training a pudgy young clerk Heyes hadn't met before.

When Chase paused in his instruction, Heyes said, "Pardon me. Hal, when you have a moment, I'd like to see you in your office."

Chase smiled at his boss who had quickly become his friend. "Of course. I think Jimmy Pierce here is ready to try out what he's been learning."

"Welcome aboard, Jimmy," said Heyes. He extended his hand across the counter.

The new clerk paused before putting out his hand. Heyes could see the young man studying him.

Hal Chase explained, "Jimmy, This is Mr. Heyes, one of our owners."

The boy's mouth opened in surprise as he put out his hand. He knew who the owners were.

"Don't worry, I don't bite, or rob folks, any more," the retired outlaw leader assured his new employee.

"Ah, good to meet you, Mr. Heyes," said the new clerk, quickly coming to terms with working for the infamous Hannibal Heyes.

"All set to take the helm, Mr. Pierce?" Asked Mr. Chase.

"Yes, sir," said the new clerk seriously.

Chase smiled. "Excellent. I'll leave you in charge while I meet with Mr. Heyes, but I'll be back to check on how things are going. If you have questions before then, you know where Mr. Whistler is in the restaurant."

"Now," said the hotel manager as they walked down the paneled hall, "what can I do for you, Heyes?"

Heyes waited to speak until they got into the office. "Well, um, I'd like some advice."

Chase could see and hear how nervous his boss was. He gestured to an armchair across from his desk . "Please take a seat." The manager sat down at his desk. He was curious about what would worry the redoubtable Hannibal Heyes, but he let Heyes speak in his own time.

The former outlaw squirmed in his chair. "I, um, I need to get a bank account. I'm gonna have paychecks to deposit. I've got one now from the mine. And a little cash I won at poker."

Hal Chase couldn't help grinning. "Is that all that's bothering you? There's only one bank in town – your partner and his wife have an account there. So what do you need advice about?"

"Well, um, what do I need to do . . ."

Even the tactful Chase couldn't help being amused by this. "Oh my God – you mean you've never had a bank account before?"

Heyes shrugged. "Well, how could I? I've been robbing banks since I was fifteen. Who's going to give an account to Hannibal Heyes?"

Now Hal laughed openly. "Anybody! The bank doesn't have to trust you – you just have to trust the bank. As long as you have money to give them, no bank is going to turn you down."

Heyes was taken aback. "Really? Even me?"

Chase chuckled, "Really. Even you. I know you're aware that banks need to have money to invest and make more money."

"Of course." Heyes felt very foolish about this whole conversation. "I do know some things about banks other than how to rob them. It's not the technical stuff I'm asking about. It's, guess you'd say, social."

Chase assured his boss, "They honestly don't care who money comes from. For checks, of course, they have to trust the bank it's from. As long as it's in state and an established bank, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, well, that's good." Heyes blushed. "It's just, I remember, once, back when the Kid and I were going for amnesty but were still wanted, we caught and turned in some robbers a bank had offered a reward for. They not only wouldn't give us the reward money, they almost almost threw our lawyer out of the place just for asking. We were in jail at the time."

"I see. But that's a lot different than your giving them money," said Chase.

Heyes grinned nervously. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I just sorta' got the impression banks made an exception to the usual rules when it came to me. You know – we take money from anybody - except outlaws. And maybe ex-outlaws."

Hal pointed out. "Your partner has an account there."

Heyes corrected him, "That's his wife's account. When they married, they added Jed on to the account automatically."

Chase said, "Trust me, Heyes, it's not going to be a problem. No bank turns down money."

So the retired outlaw walked down the board walk toward the bank with some confidence. This would be one of the few times he had ever walked into a bank without illegal ulterior motives. It was also unusual for him to come in through the front door rather then the back window or the roof. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He walked slowly into the front room where the tellers stood behind protective bars. Heyes was half expecting to be asked to leave.

The former bank robber got in line behind an ample matron in a blue dress. Heyes found himself studying the swishing of her high bustle that looked to him to be several years out of style; but of course he was still used to the trendsetting fashions of New York City. He looked away, toward a potted palm that did not look happy. Finally, Heyes was able to step up to the window and speak to the teller.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asked the grey haired teller with an easy smile.

"I'd like to open an account." Heyes tried to sound confident."or rather, two – one for saving and one for checking."

"Very good, sir. I'll close down this window and we can speak in an office in the back."

"You do know who I am, right?" Asked Heyes awkwardly as they walked toward the office.

The teller kept a straight face with an effort. "Yes, Mr. Heyes. Your money is good here." The teller lowered his voice and he learned toward his famous client. "As long as Mr. Cobb's not here." He winked at the former outlaw, who wondered just how much of a joke this was.

Half an hour later, Heyes walked out with a check book and a few temporary checks in his pocket. There was a delighted smile on his face. He looked forward to getting his real checks from the printer in a few days. The name Hannibal Joshua Heyes would appear on them.

Heyes was still smiling as he rode home to get the wagon.

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Marvin Mosley was pretending to be cool and calm, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase that led from the second floor down to the front entry of the big old house that housed a dozen young men. He was reading an elementary math text book, in hopes of looking less stupid in front of his new foster father. But when he heard the rattle of a surrey pulling up out front of the Cleveland Home for Troubled Boys, Marvin's heart was thumping pretty fast. He heard the familiar sound of Mr. Cleveland's footsteps rapidly approaching from the kitchen. As the father figure of the boys arrived, there was a knock on the front door. Marvin's friend Teddy peered out the door leading from the parlor.

Mr. Cleveland gestured for Marvin to open the door. The fourteen-year-old bit his lip and glanced at Mr. Cleveland, who nodded. The boy opened the door.

The grey-haired man on the porch smiled, with the crows feet crinkling around his grey eyes. He said, "I'm Charles Homer. I here to pick up Marvin Mosley."

"Please come in, sir," said Marvin stiffly. "I'm Mosley."

Charlie could see that the boy had just had his hair cut and was dressed in his best suit, which he was outgrowing. The Professor extended his hand. "It's very good to meet you, young man. Heyes has told me a lot about you."

Marvin fought down a smile, maintaining his dignity. He was pleased to be treated as a man, worthy of a hand shake. He spoke stiffly, trying hard to do everything right. "Thank you, sir. Mr. Heyes says he's learned a lot from you."

Mr. Cleveland, just as tall and lean as Professor Homer, strode up to the front door and put out his hand. "Welcome, Professor Homer. My wife and I run this home. I hope you've been having a good visit in Wyoming. Please come into the parlor and have a seat while Marvin gets his things."

"Thank you!" Said Charlie.

Mr. Cleveland rested his hand on Marvin's shoulder very briefly as the trio entered the parlor. For a moment they were under the curious gazes of half a dozen boys peeking out of various doorways and down from the stairway. The boys vanished like magic as the two adults passed them and entered the parlor.

Marvin said, "Excuse me, Professor Homer. I'll be right back with my stuff."

Charlie said, "Son, can I help you carry anything? I know I look old to you, but I'm still pretty strong. I'm from Wyoming, too, you know." He winked at the boy.

This made the nervous Marvin grin for just an instant. "Thank you, sir. But I don't have a lot to carry." Marvin hurried up the stairs. In addition to getting his bag, he had final good-byes to say.

When the teenager was out of earshot, Mr. Cleveland told his guest, "It's very good of the Heyes to take on Marvin. I must tell you, since Mr. Heyes came to see him, Marvin has been working very hard at his studies. He wants to impress his new father."

Charlie Homer grinned. "That's great to hear. Heyes will be pleased, I'm sure. He tells me Marvin is very bright."

Mr. Cleveland smiled wearily. "Oh, yes. Bright, indeed. But Marvin is a handful, like many very intelligent, creative boys. If he gets bored, he finds himself things to do, things that we don't always approve of. It's hard to stay ahead of him."

Charlie wasn't surprised. "I imagine so. If anyone can stay a jump ahead, it will be Heyes and his wife. They are brilliant, both of them. And Heyes is used to, well, rebellious young guys. He used to head up a whole gang of them, after all. But he can use all the help he can get, starting fatherhood this way. Do you have any advice I can give him?"

Mr. Cleveland didn't hesitate. "Music. Marvin loves music and he has a real gift for it. if you want to keep him happy and cooperative, let him sing!"

Charlie nodded. This sounded like valuable information. He wished he could learn more details, but at that point, Marvin came down the stairs with a carpetbag in hand. The bag didn't look very full.

Mr. Cleveland beckoned Marvin into the parlor. He put out a hand to shake the young man's hand. "We're going to miss you, Marvin. You've worked very hard and I hope you will do the same in your new home. I know you'll be respectful to your new foster parents."

"Yes, sir." Marvin fidgeted in discomfort at this moral guidance. He seemed eager to be on his way.

Mr. Anderson ignored the fidgets. "Good. I hope you will be happy in Colorado and make a good life for yourself. Have you said good-bye to your friends?"

"Yes, sir. I'll miss the boys. Teddy gave me a pocket knife!" Marvin had few possessions, so this was a major acquisition for him.

"That was nice of him. You must write him a thank-you note when you get to your new home."

"Yes, sir. I will." Marvin answered dutifully.

"And have you seen Mrs. Cleveland?" Asked Mr. Cleveland.

"No, sir. She's busy in the kitchen. I didn't want to bother her."

The kindly head of the home said, "Don't be silly. She'll be hurt if you don't say good-bye to her. She's going to miss you very much. Now run along to the kitchen."

When Marvin returned to the parlor a few minutes later he was trying to comb his hair with his fingers. Charlie guessed that some vigorous hugging had taken place in the kitchen. He thought he might even have glimpsed the departing teenager wiping his eyes. Evidently, Marvin had grown very close to Mrs. Cleveland during his months in the Cleveland home.

Charlie pulled out his gold pocket watch and opened the cover. "Well, we must get along to the train depot, Marvin or we'll miss our train. Do you have all of your things?"

The boy looked shyly at the man he would be traveling with. "Yes, sir. I'm ready to go." He turned to the man who had taught him so much in such a short time. "Good-bye, Mr. Cleveland. Thank you for . . . For everything."

It was clear that Mr. Cleveland really was fond of this particular troubled boy, no matter how much of a handful he was. He patted the boy's shoulder. "You are very welcome. Good-bye, Marvin. Write to me and let me know how you are. Will you do that?"

"I will, sir. Good-bye, Mr. Cleveland." He shook Mr. Cleveland's hand again. Then Charlie led the way out to the rented surrey that would take them to the train depot. Marvin could barely resist running all the way.

The rattling of the surrey made conversation hard as they rode to the train depot. But Charlie could feel Marvin's deep brown eyes keenly fixed on him. The boy realized he was staring and looked away. He fidgeted with his new knife as they rode down the streets of Laramie. Then they got to the big, rambling wooden depot. Marvin immediately knew where to go, so he eagerly led the way to the right platform.

"So, you've been here before?" Asked Charlie.

Marvin flashed a bright grin. "Yes, sir, a few times."

Charlie wondered what would have taken a harlot's neglected son to Laramie's railroad station more than once. But they were heading down the echoing hall too fast for him to ask, or Marvin was. Charlie was struggling to manage his luggage. He had more to carry than Marvin did. Quickly realizing Professor Homer's trouble, Marvin turned back and grabbed the biggest suitcase. Now the pair could make progress.

The oddly assorted pair hurried to the platform and found no train waiting for them. A sign posted on the platform sign said the train was delayed.

"Oh well, we hurried for nothing," said Charlie. He wondered if Marvin could have read the sign for himself.

"Doesn't say how long it's delayed," said Marvin, studying the messily written note. He didn't sound disappointed.

A small crowd of people was gathering, waiting for the tardy train. A busker sitting on a bench farther down the platform began to play a lively jig on the accordion. Charlie Homer looked at the man and saw he had a tin cup put out to gather change from kindly listeners. A crudely lettered sign hung around his neck said, "BLIND." Charlie looked away in embarrassment at his own worldly comfort.

But Marvin looked joyfully at the ragged musician and cried "Pops! Oh, Pops!"

The accordion player stopped playing and grinned. He called out gladly, "Marvey, my boy!"

Marvin looked uncertainly at Charlie, who nodded. Clearly the musician and the boy were friends. Charlie wasn't going to stop him, or go with him.

Marvin dropped his bags and ran across the dull wood floor to the filthy character with the accordion and threw his arms around his neck. "Oh, Pops, I thought I'd never see you again!"

The grimy busker hugged the boy and asked in a gravelly voice, "Marvey, what happened to you? You ain't been around in a month of Sundays. How am I supposed to make money without my boy singer?"

"Sorry, Pops. I hope you're well. I . . . I been in the hoosegow a spell." Marvin muttered in shame, kicking at the dusty floor.

The accordion player cuffed the boy's shoulder. "Gosh, I never thought they'd nab you, slippery as you are. But not for long, eh? Here you are. Did you bust out?"

The boy sounded reluctant to admit being helped. "No, Pops. They took me out of the Pen and put me in a place for guys my age to go straight."

"Ah, boy, I hope they didn't beat you and starve you." Pops was concerned.

"No, no. They fed me good, let me sleep on a real bed. They taught me to read and write, even. But I'm getting too old for that place. So there's a guy here taking me to my new home."

"Home, you got a home?" Pops the busker sounded envious.

"Yeah. I'm gonna live in a real house, eat three meals a day, get schooling, just like other guys who got regular parents. At least until I turn 18. A man and his wife are gonna foster me in Colorado. You'll never guess who it is." Marvin was setting up his big line.

"What, somebody rich?"asked Pops suspiciously.

"No, not rich. He says he's poor as a church mouse. But he's famous."

"Famous? Who is he?" Now Pops was really suspicious.

"Hannibal Heyes is taking me in." The boy revealed with soft pride.

"Hannibal Heyes?!" Pops was shocked. "Really?"

"Yessiree. You know he and the Kid got amnesty? So I'm gonna live with both of em' and their wives in Colorado." Ma vin spoke with satisfaction.

"Good golly! How did that happen, boy?"

"I met Heyes in the Pen. He's a good guy, just like you always hear. He took a bad beating to stop the guards from hitting me for talking. Then Heyes and the Kid got let out . Heyes got him a job in Colorado. The Kid even got to be a sheriff there. I can't wait to meet him."

"So you're leaving all your old pals behind?" The ragged man asked mournfully.

"Well, yeah. I wish you could come, Pops. I don't think Heyes would go for that."

"What's your Ma think of all this?" Asked the accordion player.

Marvin paused. "Can't nobody find her. They think maybe she's dead. You don't got news, do you?"

"No, no, boy. I ain't heard from her in a long, long time. Not since last winter. I hope she ain't gone. But you know her . . ."

It was an old story to Marvin. "Yeah. Not real good at lookin' after herself."

"Or you," said the musician softly and sadly. "So, you got time to do one more together, Marvey, before you head off to your new life with Heyes and the Kid?"

"Sure, Pops. What do you want to do?"

The old accordion player didn't give a title. He just began to play soft chords.

Marvin, recognizing the tune, smiled. He held his head high and put his right foot forward, looking around to gather a crowd. Charlie could see that this was a veteran performer.

But the old Professor could hardly belief his ears when Marvin opened his mouth. He had the sweetest boy tenor Charlie had ever heard. It wasn't long before a crowd had gathered, listening in rapt silence broken only by soft sobs.

"The farmer's heart with joy is filled

When his crops are good and sound;

But who can feel the wild delight

Of a sailor homeward bound?

For three long years have passed away

Since we left old freedom's shore,

Our long-felt wish has come at last

And we're homeward bound once more!

And we're homeward bound once more!"

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The song at the end of this chapter is a traditional American song called "The Jamestown Homeward Bound." The ship Jamestown was a sloop-of-war built in 1844.


	8. Chapter 8

After he had his new bank accounts in place at the bank in Louisville, Heyes tightened Clay's cinch, swung aboard, and rode his favorite horse home. A satisfied smile played about his lips and he held his head high. Hannibal Heyes had, in a whole new way, gotten satisfaction from a bank.

When he had untacked his horse and turned Clay out into the field by the stable at home, Heyes stood for a moment leaning on the fence in his shirt sleeves with his arms crossed and his suit jacket and saddle bags draped over the top rail. His back was dappled by sun shining through a stand of aspen trees. He watched his gelding graze in the late summer sun. Blackie, the Kid's favorite horse, who had the day off, came over to graze next to his long-time friend. They stood nose to tail, tail to nose, so their swishing tails kept one another's faces free of flies. "You've seen us through some rough times, boys," muttered the former criminal more himself than to the horses. "It's gonna be better now. I hope."

Heyes heard familiar footsteps coming across the grassy yard and looked up to see his wife smiling at him as she came from the porch. "Hello, honey," said Heyes, putting one arm around her. "This place is getting to feel like home."

Beth snuggled into Heyes' embrace. "It is, isn't it? I hope Marvin gets to feel like that, too, soon."

"Yeah, he needs a home he can count on. And a mother who really cares for him," said Heyes.

"And a father," said Beth, then she hesitated.

Heyes turned to look at her. He could see the tension in her features. He asked, "Honey?"

"How did things go at the bank?" Beth stepped out of her husband's embrace, took Heyes' good jacket off the fence and folded it over her arm.

Heyes looked concerned. He said, "It went just fine. We have a bank account. But Beth, what's worrying you?"

"Oh, Heyes, you know. Marvin chose you to be his father. He didn't choose me to be his mother. He's never met me." Mrs. Heyes sounded as if she was on the verge of tears.

Beth had so often comforted her heroic outlaw when he had been fighting his aphasia and other fears and frustrations. Now he returned the favor, putting his hand up to her chin to be sure she looked him in the eyes. "Sweetie, you're gonna be a great mother. I know you are. No doubt about it." Then he kissed her tenderly.

But when her lips were free, Beth said, "That's what you think. What about Marvin? He admires outlaws. How do you think he'll feel about a dowdy school-marm mother trying to replace the woman he loves and may have just lost?" Beth let out the fears that haunted her. "He'll see me as the authority he chafes at. He might hate me."

Heyes answered without hesitation, "No, no. You aren't dowdy. But you are a teacher. And a mother. He'll need an authority in his life, at last. A wise, loving lady. Once he gets to know you, he'll love you and depend on you, like I do."

"Well, not quite like that, I hope," said Beth With a wicked grin.

Heyes squirmed at the unintended comedy when he had been trying to be serious. "Or sorta – you know what I mean."

"I do," Beth, "And thank you, Honey. I hope you're right."

"I am," said Heyes with confidence he didn't feel. "And you don't have to be alone getting it all sorted out. You and I will be parents together, to Marvin and to our own baby. When things are rough, we'll have each other."

Beth gave her husband a slightly uncertain smile. "Together?"

"Together," echoed her husband with a lot more certainty. Beth carried Heyes' jacket while he put his saddlebags over his shoulder. Heyes took his wife's hand and they walked to the house together. "So now we Heyes have a bank account. They didn't give me any trouble. Boy, that's a change!"

Beth said, "A good change. I'm glad to get that taken care of before our new son gets here. You're getting quite domesticated, or almost, you old thief."

Heyes squeezed Beth's hand affectionately. "Marvin hasn't had a lot of guidance in this world, or not until he got to the Clevelands' place. So he'll make mistakes. He'll need us both. It might not always show, but I hope you'll agree with me that he's really a pretty decent sort of guy."

"Like his new pa," said Beth, squeezing Heyes' hand back.

Heyes gave Beth a grin. "You two will get along. For sure. Hey, you both like me."

Beth giggled.

They climbed the steps to the back porch. Heyes told his wife, "I'll change, then I'll go meet Marvin's train. I'll be back here with him before too awfully long, I hope, but I will show him around town a bit and let him meet the Kid. And that train runs late a lot. So don't worry if it takes a little while for us to get here."

"Alright. Thanks for warning me." Beth fondly watched her husband go in the kitchen door.

As he passed, Heyes and waved at Cat, who was sewing baby bed clothes in the sitting room. She waved back. The father-to-be climbed the stairs to his bedroom and changed into some of his old outlaw clothes. There was no reason to be formal and it was wasteful to wear good clothes when it wasn't necessary, so he hung up his good suit. He thought the old grey shirt, jeans, gun belt, black hat, and worn boots might make Marvin feel more at home with him. The old duds certainly made Heyes feel more relaxed as he hitched up the Currys' team of matched bays to the wagon.

"We'll be home for dinner, Sweetie!" Heyes called to his wife who stood on the porch. Heyes urged the team forward.

It didn't take long for Heyes to drive the wagon a mile to the train station on Front Street. He tied the team in front of the station, pausing to stroke the velvety noses of the mares.

He paced up and down the platform, where he was alone. The scheduled arrival time for the train came and went. Heyes pulled his pocket watch out and checked it again with a frustrated snort. The nervous foster father found the station master in his little office. "Good afternoon, Mr. Maxwell. When do you expect the train in from Laramie?"

The station master stroked his grey-streaked beard. "Hello, Mr. Heyes. Is that the train your foster son is coming in on?"

Heyes was irritated that the rumors about Marvin were getting all over town, but he had expected it. "Yes, it is. Do you know how late it's going to be?"

The station master looked down at a stack of papers and checked the clock on the wall next to him. He spoke with a deliberation that Heyes, so lately come from bustling New York, found irritating. "Let's see – they were late out of Laramie. But they've made up a little time on the way. I just got a telegram from up the line. Let me do the math. Yes – it should be here in about fifteen or twenty minutes. How's that?"

Heyes hid his annoyance and said, "Good! Thanks, Mr. Maxwell."

The former thief strolled down the boardwalk of Front Street to the sheriff's office, one hand protectively on the grips of his pistol. He passed a couple of salons and gambling parlors. The familiar sounds of laughter and music called seductively to Heyes, but he walked on by without a pause.

"Good afternoon, Heyes," said Deputy Billy Healy, getting to his feet as his boss's partner entered the office. "How are you?"

Heyes spoke distractedly as his eyes travelled around the office. "Pretty fair, Billy. Is the Kid around?"

Billy glanced up at the big old clock on the wall. "No, he's out checking trouble spots. Should be back any minute. Sheriff should have been back before now, as a matter of fact. He said he wanted to see you and you're a few minutes later than you said you'd be. Can I give him a message when he gets in?"

Heyes looked out the front window, at the clock, and then back at the deputy. "Sure. The train my foster son, Marvin, is on from Wyoming is late. I'll bring Marvin to see you guys, when the train gets in. They expect it in about a quarter of an hour. I want to be sure the boy knows where to go for help if he needs it and I'm not around."

"You know you and your family can count on us, Heyes. I'll let the boss know your new plans. I just wish I knew what was keeping the sheriff." Billy glanced at the clock again. "But you know how it is. It's an unpredictable job."

Heyes nodded. He knew, if only from the other side of the law. He had contributed heavily to the unexpected twists and turns in the jobs of many lawmen.

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The slender, dark-haired boy looked curiously all around as he and Professor Homer walked down the train aisle and chose seats. Marvin sat in the seat by the window while the professor sat next by the aisle. The boy started in surprise as the train jerked and slowly began to pull out of the Laramie station. He leaned forward and gazed out the train window in fascination, excited by the gathering speed of this great machine. It was clear that he had rarely been on a train. So Charlie stayed quiet for a while and let Marvin take it all in. There was a lot to see in the rail yard, and around the warehouses and businesses along the tracks as they left Laramie. Now and then Marvin snuck a peek at Charlie, who was reading a mathematics journal.

Finally, when they were well outside town, Marvin turned to the older man sitting next to him and asked, as casually as if they had been talking all along. "So, you taught Mr. Heyes?"

Charlie looked up from his journal. Many men would have chastised the boy for not calling him "sir" or "professor," but Charlie wanted Marvin to be comfortable with him. Authority was not the question in this relationship. So he just answered the question. "Yes. I taught him in several math classes, but it was more than that. I was his advisor. I helped him pick what classes to take, what to write about for his thesis, how cope with all kinds of stuff like that. We got to be friends. I'm from Wyoming – we have a lot in common."

The boy, having no knowledge of college, looked puzzled. But, being from Wyoming himself, he was interested. "Oh. Did you know who he really was?"

"Not at first. He didn't tell anybody his real name if he didn't have to. It was just too dangerous to assume anybody would pass up that $10,000 reward."

Marvin nodded. That made sense to him. "What name did he use?"

"I knew him as Joshua Smith. They said he was a cowboy."

The boy laughed and exclaimed, "Ha! So you didn't know a whole lot about Heyes."

"Not for a while. I knew he'd been shot in the head and lost the power of speech for a couple of months because he came to Columbia from the Leutze Clinic, where he was learning to talk and write again. But I didn't know he was an outlaw, much less that he was Hannibal Heyes. It wasn't until I had to know that I found that out." Charlie spoke thoughtfully, looking back to his first meetings with a man who would change his life.

"Gee! What happened so you had to know?" Asked Marvin, scenting an exciting tale.

"One winter, between semesters, I was about to go to a meeting when Kid Curry showed up. I didn't know who he was, but his jacket was bloody from a gunshot wound and he had his pistol on his hip and a cowboy hat on his head. He looked like he'd stepped right out of a dime novel into New York City. And he looked damn worried. He told me my best student was near death and begged me to come help him." Heyes had told Charlie that Marvin loved stories. He was right. Marvin's eyes were aglow with excitement.

"What had happened to Heyes and the Kid?" Asked Marvin.

"They'd gotten caught up in a fight with some very rough outlaws out in Colorado who wanted to shoot up the Kid's saloon."

"The Teasdale Brothers?" Asked Marvin, who was well acquainted with Wyoming outlaws.

"Yeah," answered Charlie. "They got into a hot chase in the mountains, the Teasdales and their henchmen on the tails of Curry and Heyes. It was in the winter and Heyes got thrown into an icy stream when his horse went under a low branch, so he caught pneumonia. The Kid somehow kept him alive and got them onto a train East. The Teasdales caught up to Curry and Heyes on the train. Somewhere outside New York, they got into a gunfight even though Heyes was too weak to stand. But he still managed to shoot one of the Teasdales and the Kid winged the other. But the Teasdales got in their own shots before Heyes tossed them off the train. By the time the Kid found me at Columbia University, he'd been shot in the arm and Heyes was really sick and had a bad gun shot wound in the hip."

"Wow! That gunfight got in the news in Wyoming!" Mar pointed out.

Charlie nodded. "I bet it did! The Kid didn't know New York, so I helped him to get Heyes to a hospital. I carried him down the stairs from a crummy slum room where he had nearly died."

"Jiminy!" Marvin's brown eyes were enormous by now. "So you helped and they told you who they were?"

"No, they didn't tell me – I figured it out myself." Charlie winked at the boy. "That gunfight was in the New York papers, too."

"Weren't Heyes and the Kid afraid you'd turn them in?" Asked Marvin.

Charlie nodded. "To begin with, yes. But they weren't so worried after my wife and I invited them to move in with us in our apartment until they healed up from the gunshots. We got to be very close with the boys and with Beth, Heyes' girlfriend."

"The lady who's gonna be my new ma." Marvin sounded unsure. He looked out the window at the golden hills going by. Then he glanced back at the professor.

"Yeah, Marvin . . ."

The boy's eager face went hard and resentful. He looked away from Charlie again.

Charlie was unsure how he had made a false step. Had the boy already turned against Beth? He stood up for his former student. "She taught Heyes at the clinic. They got to be close friends. All the stuff that would have made him blush if anyone else knew, it was kept between them."

"Yeah." Marvin didn't sound mad at Beth. "Heyes told me about her. She sounds like a real good lady. She's willing to give me a chance, so she must be pretty nice, don't you think?" He gave Charlie a shy grin.

"So, Marvin . . ."

The grin vanished. Now Charlie thought he knew what was going on.

"Now I see what's bothering you. You're like Heyes – you don't like your first name?"

The boy grimaced and nodded.

"Hm. What can we do about that?" This got Marvin's attention. No one had ever suggested a way for him to avoid his hated first name. "Do you have a middle name you like? Or a nickname?"

"Nah. Ain't got a middle name. Some friends call me Marvey, like Pops at the depot in Laramie."

"You aren't crazy about that."

The slender boy shrugged. "Nah. It's alright for Pops to use it. But for most folks, it sounds like a little kid."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. You need a man's name. What about Marv?"

The boy shook his head.

"Hm," professor Homer considered the problem. Then he suggested, "What about Mar? That's a last name, or with two r's it is, and any last name can be a first name."

The teenager cocked his head and thought about it. "Mar. Hm. Yeah. I could try that out." He paused. "Could you try calling me that, on the train? Professor Homer?"

"You bet, Mar." Charlie used the new name.

The name's owner grinned self-consciously. "Thank you, Professor."

The pair looked out the window for a while and talked about Charlie's youthful days as a drover and a surveyor in rural Wyoming. Then they opened a deck of cards and used Charlie's briefcase as a table while they played a couple of games they both knew. As the train rattled around a turn many of the cards slid onto the floor. The two laughed as they hurried to pick the cards up before strangers could trample them.

As he got back into his seat, Mar paused thoughtfully. "Professor – I – um – why are you being so nice to me?"

"Why not? You're a nice guy." Charlie was gathering the cards back into an orderly stack.

"Um, thanks." The boy paused, unsure how to say what he really meant. "I mean, why didn't Heyes come up for me himself."

Charlie understood. First, he explained, "Heyes just hired on as a math professor at the University of Colorado. He has a lot of work to do and not much time to do it in."

"Wow, a professor! So he sent you?" Marvin clearly felt proud for Heyes. Yet Charlie thought the boy also felt slighted that the new Professor hadn't come himself.

Charlie tried to get Marvin to understand. "Yes, but just so he could get as much as possible done before you get there. He cares a lot about you. And also, he wanted you and me to meet."

"Oh? Why?"

He asked softly. "Mar, I know you've had a hard life, for a boy so young. Being an orphan is tough on anybody. Do you know how Heyes and the Kid lost their parents?"

The boy looked solemn, but also confused about why this was relevant. He nodded. "Heyes told me they got killed by some raiders who burned their farms."

"That's right. The boys buried them with their own hands. Heyes was nine, the Kid was only seven. And then Heyes was shot by the raiders and the Kid was the only one who could take care of him. So they've both been orphans for a long time."

"Yeah? They're all grown up. What do they need with parents?" Marvin was dubious.

Charlie felt for everyone in this situation. "Oh, Mar, you sure are young. People stop having parents, but I don't know if they ever stop needing them. Or wanting them, anyhow. You know, when Heyes got to New York, he had been shot in the head and couldn't talk?"

"Yeah," said Marvin uncertainly.

"He was far from anywhere he knew, he didn't have his partner with him, he couldn't talk or know if he ever would talk again. He was scared stiff."

"Heyes? Scared? Really?" This didn't sound like the Heyes Marvin knew.

"You bet. He kind of needed somebody. And do did I. My wife, my late wife now, Marie. She died in the spring. But long before, she and I lost our only son in the war. I guess you might say, in teaching college, I'd been looking for another son all those years."

Marvin listened in silence.

"Marie and I found that son in Heyes. And when the Kid came to New York and stayed with us, he joined the family. Heyes never calls me Pa, but I do call him son. I think he likes that. He and the Kid said I could treat their children as my grandchildren, since their wives are orphans, too. They need grandparents for their children any place they can find them."

Marvin was riveted, listening with his lips parted.

"That includes you, if you want it to." Charlie knew he was taking a terrible chance.

Marvin didn't answer.

"You don't have to decide now, but think about it. Have you ever known your mother's parents?"

Marvin shook his head. He thought quietly for a few minutes while Charlie tactfully read his journal.

As they pulled out of another little western town, Marvin said, "Professor, if you don't mind, yes. I would like you to, you know, come see me when you can. If you can manage it."

"I will come, Mar, as often as I can. And I'll write to you."

Marvin smiled. He whispered to himself. "Jiminy! I got a grandpa!"

With that happy thought in his mind, Charlie turned back to his mathematical journal while Mar went down the train aisle. The boy was trying to balance against the swaying if the train like a veteran traveler as he went to get a drink of water.

Some time later, the train lurched. Charlie opened his eyes suddenly, realizing he had fallen asleep over his journal. He looked at the seat next to him. It was empty. The professor supposed the boy had found his snoozing new grandpa dull company, and so had gone exploring the train. That wasn't surprising. But, enjoyable a companion as he had been thus far, Charlie had not forgotten Marvin's troubled past. With a sigh and a few creaks, the old academic got to his feet and went in search of the ex-con he was tasked with watching over. He had a feeling he was about to discover a story Heyes would need to hear.

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As the train from Laramie slowed down and pulled into the little station at Louisville, Charlie and Mar saw Heyes on the platform, watching for them. He waved, then dashed along the platform to be opposite their car's door when it opened.

The door opened and Charlie tossed his suitcase down to his friend. Heyes caught it easily and put it down, then reached up to help his grey-haired mentor down to the platform. "Hey, Charlie! Hey Marvin! You guys have a good trip?"

Marvin jumped down to land beside Charlie.

Heyes extended a hand to his new son. Two pairs of shining brown eyes met. Marvin looked anxious, but a smile grew on Heyes' face and spread to his foster son's.

Before the new foster father could speak, Professor Homer gave his former student a serious look and said, "Heyes, meet Mar Mosley." Mosley stood up very straight.

"Welcome to Louisville, Mar. It may be smaller than Laramie, but it's a good place to have a home." Heyes gave his new foster son a firm handshake as he took up the new name without hesitation. His experience working with his partner on cons seemed never to stop paying off.

Marvin grinned nervously. "Thank you . . ." He hesitated. "Pa."

Hearing that, Heyes glowed. He clapped Mar companionably on the shoulder. "Let's get these bags in the wagon, son."

Mar smiled in delight at being called "son" by Hannibal Heyes.

"Here, this is ours," said Heyes as they got to the wagon. He could see Marvin looking at the horses with eager interest. "The mares are Martha and Jennie. Jennie has the star on her face." Mar let each of the mares sniff his hand, then patted the near mare on the shoulder.

Heyes couldn't help but notice how nearly empty his new son's carpetbag was as Mar lifted it into the wagon. They would have to do some shopping for him.

Charlie said, "I'll be staying with Sherwood – I mean, Doc Grauer, tonight. He's an old friend of mine, Mar. So I can carry my things over to his place, if you guys will help – it's just down the street. No need to bother the horses."

Heyes smiled to notice Mar eagerly pick up Charlie's larger bag, while Charlie himself picked up the smaller one.

Heyes said, "It's this way," He pointed down the unpaved street. "You need to know where the doctor's office is, anyhow, just in case, son."

"Yes, sir."

"Aw, Mar, you don't have to be that formal with me. Pa is fine." Heyes looked hard at the boy and fingered the grips of his pistol. "Unless I'm mad at you, then Sir might work better. You don't want to get me too mad at you."

Marvin looked unsure. Charlie goosed Mar in the ribs. "I don't think he's kidding."

"I'm not," said Heyes, looking even more serious. "Ask the boys at Devil's Hole." But then he winked and grinned. The two men began to laugh. It took Marvin a little while before he dared join in.

As the trio walked together, Marvin lagged behind the older men and looked around at the saloons, warehouses, and boarding houses on front street. He couldn't help noticing how the eyes of the people in the street followed them on their way down the boardwalk. A pair of young miners in coal dust-stained coveralls turned to watch the trio walk by.

"Curious folks around here, ain't they?" Asked Marvin uneasily.

"They are when you're with me," said Heyes apologetically, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh? Cause you're famous?" Asked Mar.

"Yeah. And I haven't been living in town long, so they still stare at me. They'll get used to me, and you, don't worry. They hardly give your Uncle Jed a glance. Unless he's taking in some bad guy, or shooting it out with a gunman." Heyes' casual mention of these dramatic activities earned an impressed stare from his new foster son.

A pair of harlots in revealing dresses peered out the door of a dance hall to see what the fuss was about. They tittered and pointed at Heyes and his two companions.

Charlie chuckled. "I guess you're gonna be a local celebrity, too, Mar."

The boy looked down, away from the young women who made their living as his mother had. Heyes wondered if his foster son was afraid to be seen smiling at such women.

They walked a few yards in silence, as Marvin studied Louisville, and Hannibal Heyes, with a critical eye. "Pa, can we go see, um, Mr. Curry?"

"Sure, we'll go by the sheriff's office while we're in town. You need to know where it is. Your Uncle Jed and his deputies can help you out if you ever need a hand when I'm not around. We'll head over there after we get Charlie to the Doc's place."

Just then, a pair of men on horseback turned a corner and shot by, one after the other, at a dead run. Both had their bandannas over their noses and mouths. They kept glancing over their shoulders at another pair of riders who followed them a few yards back, spurring hard. Townsfolk and loose dogs scrambled to get out of the way, then stood to stare after the riders as they raced out of town. Mar starred as hard as anyone.

"Oh well," said Heyes calmly, turning to watch the two pairs of riders heading east. "I guess you can meet your Uncle Jed later. He looks pretty busy right now."

"Jiminy!" Whispered Marvin in awe, craning his neck to look as far down the street after the riders as he could. "Kid Curry!"

Heyes bit his lip, not wanting to say anything that would give away how jealous he felt of his partner in that moment. Instead, he said, "Pardon me," and took off down the board walk at a run.

Mar stood for a moment, confused as to what was going on and how he should react. Did he dare to leave Charlie to follow his new Pa? Charlie waved Mar down the street to follow Heyes, "Go on boy."

Mar dropped Charlie's bag and ran after Heyes, ducking around a man in a miner's coveralls to follow Heyes in the door of the Sheriff's office. Mar skidded to a stop on the wood floor to keep from running into his foster father.

Heyes was rapidly talking to the deputy at the desk, " . . . on a couple of chestnut horses. Couldn't see them real well – they had their bandannas over their mouths. One was real tall and skinny, the guy behind him pretty average build. They were headed east in a hurry with the Kid and Al right behind them." Heyes turned to give him an encouraging smile before going on with his report.

Billy was nodding and taking notes on a pad. "But the Kid wasn't firing at them – I would have heard that."

Heyes was horrified. "Of course not! With folks all around, women and children on the board walks – not even the Kid could be sure he wouldn't hit somebody."

"Yeah, that's true," said Billy. He looked curiously at Mar, who was only about four years his junior. "Who's this guy with you, Heyes?"

The former outlaw gestured for Marvin to come up to the desk. "Billy, this is my new foster son, Mar Mosley. Mar, meet Billy Healy, one Jed Curry's deputies."

"Welcome to town, Mar," said Billy, standing up and holding out his hand.

Marvin stood up very straight as he shook the deputy's hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm right pleased to meet you."

"You sound like a Wyoming man to me," said Billy Healy with a pleased sparkle in his eye. Not many people called him sir.

"Yes, sir, I am!" Answered the youngster who had just come from the home state they had in common.

"Now, Mar," said the young deputy. "You can come in here any time you need any kind of help."

"I wouldn't want to bother you," said Mar, with an uneasy look at his foster father, who tried to look supportive. "I can look out for myself."

Billy shook his head. "Balderdash, boy. We're all Wyomingites here. Al Kelly, the other deputy, is from our home country, too. And you know how long Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry spent there. If Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry ain't honorary Wyomingites, I don't know who is. We all look out for each other."

"Well, alright, um, thank you," said the self-reliant Mar reluctantly. "You just be sure to let me do stuff for you, too, right?"

Heyes smiled behind the boy's back. He was already proud of Marvin.

"Sure," said Billy. "Right now you can do me a good turn, if you have time. While Al and the boss are off chasing those owl hoots, I need to stay around the office. So if you can run over and send a telegram for me, I'd be right grateful."

Mar looked uncertainly at Heyes, who said, "I'll show you where the Telegraph office is." He didn't say he would also show his foster son how to send a telegram, but the boy supposed his foster father wouldn't mind showing him how things worked.

"Uh, sure," said Mar. "I'd be glad to do whatever I can."

"Good," said Billy, reaching for a pad of paper. "Let me write the message up for you and a list of places to send the same message. You just put it on the sheriff's tab. I got to send word to the law in counties here abouts that the sheriff is on the tail of those critters, and I bet I know who those boys are."

"Oh?" asked Heyes, sounding less relaxed than he had until now. "Anybody I'd know?"

"No, I don't guess so," said the deputy, continuing to write. "But we've had some holdups reported by a couple of local mines just outside town."

"You know names?" asked Heyes.

"We have guesses, but nothing for sure." Billy didn't look up as he printed his message.

"Well, you gonna tell me who you're guessing about?" Heyes' voice was growing lower and more serious with each exchange.

Now Billy looked up. "No, sir, if you don't mind. That's legal business."

"So you trust me to run errands but . . . ," Heyes started to gripe, but then, realizing he was worrying his new foster son, he stopped. "Oh, uh, well, I guess I'm just a citizen."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes, but . . ." Healy glanced uneasily at Mar, who was watching his foster father very closely. "But yeah, you are. But, um, while you're at it, Heyes, could you please put your head in at Christy's Place and see if Hank Appleton is there? If he is, ask him to step over this way. He helps out some when we're short-handed."

"Yeah, I'll do that," said Heyes. He tried to recover his former light tone. "I was planning to take the boy over to the old place to say howdy anyhow. Christy's is the saloon the Kid sold, Mar. We still have a lot of friends there. The folks at Christy's will be hopping up and down to meet you."

"You just remember, you've got friends here, too," Billy told Marvin. The boy smiled back at him. He was glad to have friends already.

"Do you like being Kid Curry's Deputy?" Mar asked Billy.

Billy nodded. "It's good work. It don't pay too much, but Jed Curry's a good boss."

As Heyes and Mar were leaving the sheriff's office, the boy asked Heyes, "So, you help out the sheriff pretty often?"

"No," said Heyes, a little more sharply then he intended. He saw the puzzlement on his foster son's face and explained, "I do something for him now and then, but he's got his job and I've got mine. And we've both got guys working under us – deputies for him, teaching assistants for me. He don't need me, except to call in their regular help."

Mar fell silent as he thought about the two partners he had idolized from a distance.

"So, you interested in law work?" Asked Heyes at last.

"Heck, no!" Exclaimed the former pick pocket with distaste. "But you know how it is. It can't hurt to get on their good side, just in case."

"You aren't planning on making any trouble with the law?" The former outlaw asked with raised eyebrows.

The boy flushed and stammered. "Um, no, of course not. I just . . ."

Heyes chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Stuff like that gets to be a professional habit that's hard to break after you go straight." He jokingly shook his finger at his foster son. "Just make sure you don't slip up and really break the law. Alright?"

Mar grinned. "You bet, Pa. I won't slip up."

"Good. I won't, either," added Heyes. The two ex-cons laughed together as they walked down the boardwalk side by side.

Soon they met up with Charlie Homer, coming in the other direction. He asked, "Did you fellows learn anything from the deputy?"

Heyes answered, "Not much. Billy has guesses about who those guys are that Jed and Al are chasing, but it sounded pretty vague. Mostly, he needed news from us. We're headed over to the telegraph office to carry some messages for Billy. Did you leave off your stuff with Doc Grauer?"

Charlie nodded. "I did. But he's got patients to see to, so I thought I'd go get a sip of something at Christy's Place. Are you gentlemen going there?" Realizing belatedly that he might be making a suggestion that could bother Heyes, who was still struggling not to drink, the professor added. "Or I can just say goodbye now, since I'll be on the train early in the morning."

"Yeah, Pa said we'll go over to Christy's Place, Grandpa!," said Mar happily. Hearing what Marvin had called Charlie made Heyes feel cheerful, too. His new family was coming together. Seeing Heyes' pleasure, Charlie relaxed. He joined Heyes and Mar on their way to Christy's Place via the telegraph office.

The telegraph office was just down Front Street from the Sheriff's office. It didn't take long to show Billy Healy's note to the telegrapher and get it sent to several sheriffs. Mar watched the process closely, but hung back with Charlie and let Heyes be in charge.

Then the three walked back down the Street. "This is Front Street," said Heyes. "It's where the train station is, and the bars."

"And the sheriff's office, yeah,"said Mar.

"Right " continued Heyes as tour guide, pointing, "and entrances to some of the local coal mine tunnels."

Mar looked quizzical.

"Yes, the miners can walk to work, right here in town and more are close by. I wish my mine was that close."

"Where is the Fayette Mine,"asked Marvin.

"Oh, about ten miles that way," answered Heyes, pointing toward the rugged slabs of rock known as the Flatirons, looming just a few miles away.

Mar nodded with respect for that rugged country.

"Anyhow," continued Heyes, "The rough things are here on Front Street. The hotel the Kid bought is up on Main Street, where the nice ladies and families feel more at home. You'll see that tonight at dinner. You and the Doc come join us, Charlie."

"Thanks, Heyes. That'll be nice," said Charlie.

Mar's foster father saw the anxious look in his brown eyes. He understood – Mar had probably not spent much time in places considered very respectable. The former outlaw had once felt the same, when he had been a scruffy boy.

Heyes said, "But first, Mar, you need to meet the folks at Christy's Place." He pointed the way down the board walk to the battered wooden sign that had been weathering there for a quarter of a century.

Mar gazed keenly at the saloon's bat-wing doors. He knew such places all too well. He glanced uneasily at his foster father. Charlie and Heyes exchanged a concerned glance. It wasn't hard to guess that Marvin had not been in a saloon since his arrest. The former pick-picket knew that he would be expected to act differently there than he had before he went straight, but differently how? Heyes didn't know what to tell him, so he said nothing. He just walked through the doors with Charlie and Mar on his heels.

"Joshua!" Cried Joe joyfully from behind the bar, seeing his former boss's partner. "Great to see you!"

Heyes grinned and gestured for Charlie and Mar to join him at the bar. "Howdy, Joe! You remember Charlie Homer. And this is Mar Mosley, my foster son. Mar, this is Joe Treadwell. He and Ted Farr, the piano player, bought Christy's Place from the Kid and Cat. That is, from your Uncle Jed and your Aunt Catherine."

Everyone except the uneasy Mar laughed at Heyes' stumbling over the new relationships. But it was friendly laughter, not mean. The portly Joe extended a hand over the bar, "Good to see you, Charlie. Welcome to Louisville, Mar. You're welcome here any time."

"Thank you, Mr. Treadwell," said Mar quietly, glancing at his new foster father.

"Oh, Hank, they need you down at the sheriff's office," said Heyes to the old miner leaning on the bar near him.

"Sure, I'll head over," said Appleton. He drained the last of his beer and hurried out the door.

Ted, the bald piano player left his music to shake Heyes' hand and greet Mar and Charlie. "Welcome home, Heyes. So this is the young man you and Mrs. H are fostering?"

"Yes, this is Mar Mosley," said Heyes. "And this gentleman is my friend, who used to be my professor, Charlie Homer."

An old domino player leaning on a cane welcomed the strangers, then asked, "Mr. Heyes, you saw the Kid hot after those guys, headed out of town? Do you know if he caught those guys?"

Heyes answered, "I did see him. I asked his deputy about it. They'll let us know when they hear back. Nothing yet. But I'm not worried. Jed and Al can take care of themselves."

"They can, for sure. Nice lookin' boy you got here, Heyes," Exclaimed Madge the Madam. "You come around any time, honey-pie," she told Mar. "Any time at al." The boy blushed at the attention from the buxom old gal in her gaudy red dress and feathers. More working girls came to say hello, and more card players and domino players.

Mar wound up at the center of attention, while Charlie backed away to lean on the bar next to Heyes. "Alright," murmured the former outlaw quietly to his former teacher, "what did he do on the train?"

"He was actually fine most of the time," said Charlie, "We had a good, long talk. He did sneak off when I was napping . . ."

"Ah, here it comes," breathed the new foster father in dread.

"It was actually funny. He gathered up some private school boys who escaped their teacher. They were all about eight or nine years old. They were all crouched under a table in the dining car between meals. He was teaching them to play poker."

Heyes moaned, "Oh, gee, how much . . .?"

Charlie interrupted him. "Don't worry, I stopped him before he skinned them. I got the money back in the right hands."

Heyes looked wearily at his mentor. "But where did he get the stake to play at all?"

Charlie was starting to worry. "He said Mrs. Cleveland gave him some money when he left. He did visit her in the kitchen."

Hannibal Heyes shook his head as he watched his new foster son charm the denizens of Christy's Place. "You saw his money?"

Charlie nodded. "About two dollars and fifty cents, all in change. She could have given him that."

Heyes sighed. "He conned you, Charlie. Those coins probably came out of passengers' pockets. We'll check with Mrs. Cleveland, but I don't have a lot of hope he's innocent. I'm pretty sure we got a live one on the hook. I hoped it wouldn't be like that, but it probably is. I better go get him before he does any damage here. Oh, Beth."


	9. Chapter 9

The wagon rattled along the rocky mile-long dirt road between Louisville and the Curry-Heyes House. Dust rose from wheels and hooves. Hannibal Heyes, wearing his old black hat, was in the driver's seat holding the reins. Marvin Mosley sat next to him, looking all around. The urban boy seemed fascinated by the open fields and the looming mountains. Mar glanced at the man driving the wagon, then looked ahead along the road. Then he looked up at the Rockies. The boy's new pocket knife was clenched in his fist, forgotten. Heyes thought his foster son looked uneasy at the thought of arriving at his new home, yet eager to see it.

"Mar, did you have a bunch you ran around with before the law got you?" asked Heyes in a loud voice to carry over the noise of the horses and wagon.

Mar answered more softly, "Um, well, sorta. Nobody special, but you know, guys like me." His eyes stared into the distance, avoiding Heyes' gaze.

"Homeless kids on the streets," said Heyes. "Yeah, I been there." He understood that Mar was keeping his answer vague because he didn't want to betray his pals who might have strayed, as he had himself, a bit from the straight and narrow.

Marvin nodded. "Boy, it's nice out here," said the former pick-pocket, pointedly changing the subject. He gazed across the flower-spangled fields toward the Rockies. "Real pretty."

"Yeah. The Kid's got a nice place here. He's mighty proud of it." They came to a little group of trees where a lane branched off the main road. The pair of bay mares hardly needed Heyes to steer them onto the lane to get home. They extended their strides eagerly.

"Do you know how to drive a team?" Heyes asked Mar.

"Not yet. But I ride pretty good." The boy leaned forward and looked avidly toward the new wood and stone house at the end of the road.

"Yeah, you told me. But you'll need to learn to drive. Like we talked about before, you'll need to pitch in on chores and errands like all the rest of us. You and I have a chore to do now – we got to get these mares unhitched and unharnessed and looked after."

"Yes, sir," answered Marvin as they pulled up to the stable and coach house behind the house. "I worked with the horses at the home."

"Good." Heyes did not correct the formal title his new foster son gave him. At this moment, authority was just what he wanted. Heyes grunted softly as he climbed down from the seat. Mar jumped lightly down beside him.

"Do you know the parts of the harness and how to undo them?" asked Heyes, as he tied up the mares.

"Some of them, Pa." The boy was reluctant to admit his ignorance, but he realized that Heyes would immediately be able to tell whether he was claiming expertise he did not actually have.

"You know the bridle. This isn't that different." Mar paid rapt attention as his new foster father patiently named and demonstrated all the straps from the brow band to the crupper while they unharnessed the horses and put away the wagon. The older man and the younger both murmured to the horses and patted them as they worked, keeping the animals calm and happy.

"Hang, on, Jenny," said Heyes fondly to the mare whose feet he was checking. "You'll get out to that grass soon."

Mar patted the other mare on the shoulder. The boy looked around the stable, whose wood was so new it still smelled of sawdust, as well as leather and straw. All the stalls were empty.

As the pair led the mares to the door and let them out to graze, Marvin asked, "So, how many horses do you have here?" He patted Martha on the rump as she walked out into the field.

"About six. They come and go because most of the animals here belong to Jed and Cat, and the sheriff's office and the hotel. I've only got my old gelding, Clay," said Heyes. He pointed out the door to the field alongside the one where the mares were grazing.

"Jiminy! Is that him with another horse? Did you have him when you were an outlaw?" asked the boy enthusiastically. He gazed to where Heyes had pointed.

"Yeah, that's Clay, and the Kid's horse, Blackie. I got Clay a few months after we went straight. Funny thing, I sold him once, when I had to. And then later he turned up at a livery stable in some town the Kid and I went through. I bought him again. Goodness only knows what had happened to him in the meantime, but there he was. He's a wise animal. Helped save me from bounty hunters and sheriffs more than once. And Blackie is just as good."

"Golly! Can I meet them?" Mar was excited as he followed his new foster father into the tack room.

Heyes sat on a stool and looked levelly at the boy. "Sure. But first, Mar, we need to do a little talking. Before you go into our house and meet the women, we need to know where we stand."

There was a flash of fear in Marvin's eyes, which he quickly tried to cover. "Um, sure, Pa." The boy shifted his feet uneasily on the brick floor.

"Tell me about the gang you ran with," said Heyes, meeting the boy's eyes.

Mar squirmed. "Um, what do you want to know?"

"Did you ever turn on each other, turn traitor and cause trouble for each other?"

"No, sir, never!" answer Marvin fervently.

"That so? So, it wasn't one of those boys turned you in to the law?" Heyes prodded.

"No! Wouldn't none of us do that, no matter what the reward was." Mar looked down at the floor. "I, um, I just slipped up and the cops nabbed me. Nobody turned me in."

"Don't worry about it, Mar. I been nabbed plenty of times."

"I don't get it, Pa. Why are you asking about the boys?"

Heyes wiped the sweating back of his neck with one hand. "Son, I don't guess you've ever really felt like you had a family, other than your Ma and that gang."

The boy stood in puzzled silence.

"Well, you do, now. We will stand by you through thick and thin. The Kid, Cat, Beth, and I all will. And Charley, too. We're your family. But you have to stand by us, too. You have to live by reasonable rules and tell us the truth."

Marvin smelled a rat. "What did that old guy tell you?" he asked suspiciously. "Whatever it was . . ."

Heyes interrupted Mar angrily, "You be careful how you refer to Professor Charles Homer! He rode all the way down here with you, but he couldn't watch you every minute. So, did you go and betray us all before you even got here?"

"What? You mean that silly poker game with those kids on the train?"

"Well, I'm not happy that you'd take unfair advantage of little boys just to get a buck or two when you can earn what you need here with a little honest labor. But what about the stakes you had for that game?"

Mar answered defensively, "What about it? Mrs. Cleveland gave me some money for the trip."

"How much?" prodded his new foster father.

"Huh? I dunno. Two bucks, I guess." The boy wouldn't meet Heyes' keen gaze.

"Oh? So how did you wind up with fifty cents more than that after Charlie sorted out your little poker scam? Tell me that." Heyes didn't sound mad at his new foster son, just very skeptical.

Mar stared at the floor and said nothing.

Heyes sighed. He spoke with as much patience as he could muster. "Tell me the truth, boy. I'm not going to hit you or anything. But I need to know the truth. I'm legally in charge of you. I need to deal whatever you do. And if you break the law, even a little bit, not only do you wind up back in prison, I might, too. Like I say, I'm in charge of you. The Governor of Wyoming entrusted you to me."

Marvin's eyes got big. "The Governor? Really?"

"Yeah. Come clean, Mar."

Marvin kicked at the floor. "Oh, it weren't nothing bad. I just, well, there was this lady. When she got up from her seat at a stop, there were a couple of quarters on the seat. Fell out of her purse, I guess."

"I guess. Let's see. I'm guessing you tried to run after her and give the money to her and you couldn't catch her before she got off the train?" said Heyes with eyebrows raised.

"Um, no. I um, you know. I just put 'em in my pocket, quick. Nobody saw me." The boy snuck a peek at Heyes, who was not smiling at all.

The former outlaw had his hands on his hips as he studied Mar closely. Was the boy lying? Had he been picking pockets on the train? "What, you think if nobody sees you do something wrong it doesn't count?"

"No. But this was a wealthy lady, had that much in a purse and didn't even notice those quarters missing. She was that careless – she deserved to lose that money. I need it more!"

Heyes wasn't about to let that stand. "Oh, you're so sure of that? You think you can tell all that about a person just by glancing at them?"

"Well, she had that money . . ."

Heyes spoke hotly. "You don't get to judge people like that! Just from a glance – how would you feel if someone judged you that way? A scruffy boy like you?"

"You think they don't? On the streets in Wyoming? They think I'm scum!" Now Marvin was the angry one.

The new father was roused. "Anybody who thinks that is wrong!" Then he thought a moment. "Or they are until you prove them right by doing something low and rotten. Like keeping money that isn't yours."

"Well, we can't do nothing about that now." The boy clearly wanted to slink away.

"Oh, can't we?" Heyes sounded satisfied with the plan he was about to announce. "Give me those quarters."

"What? You think you need 'em more than me?" Marvin clapped a hand to his hip pocket protectively.

Heyes shook his head. "No. It's not a matter of who needs it. It's a matter of whose money it is. When you start earning money honestly, you'll understand. Anybody who takes it away – you hate 'em. I'm going to send the money back to the train line so if anybody says they lost that money, they can get it back. Or rather, you're going to send it back. With a note saying exactly when and where you, um, found those coins. Including your name, young fellow. I'm just going to hold that money until we get you and your note to the post office. Hand it over. Now." Heyes stuck out his hand. Marvin unearthed the coins from his pocket and gave them to his foster father with a look of respect.

"And if you think I won't ask Mrs. Cleveland how much money she gave you, think again, Mr. Mosley," added Heyes.

"Are you going tell Mrs. Heyes about it? And the Kid?" Now Marvin was blushing and speaking very softly.

"Hm. I'm not sure. Depends on you. If you're respectful and honest and study real hard, it might just stay between us. I know you have a lot to learn. And I hope you're starting to know it, too." Heyes tousled the boy's hair affectionately to take the sting out of his words. They walked to the house together. Mar carried his carpet bag and looked all around the property curiously.

Heyes found the front door open. Mar's mouth dropped open when he saw the front parlor. He had never seen anything like it, having never lived in a truly private home. The place seemed a wonderland to Mar, with polished stove, wall paper, even with books on shelves and a small painting of a stage on the wall. A friend in New York had painted it for Beth. Heyes knew their front room was actually spare and shabby next to fine parlors, but he appreciated how it must seem to a boy from the streets who had only known the bare front room at the Clevelands' place, kept plain to suit its institutional purpose.

Cat and Beth somehow both happened to be bustling around cleaning imaginary dust from the parlor as Heyes and Mar came in. "Ladies," said Heyes, taking off his old black hat "I'd like you to meet Mar Mosley." Heyes had to gesture silently to Mar to remind him to take off his cap in the parlor in front of ladies. The boy grabbed off his rumpled cap and tucked it under his arm as his carpetbag dropped awkwardly to the floor.

"Um, how do you do, ma'am, um, ma'am?" Said Marvin looking from one lady to the other.

"Mar, this is Catherine Curry." Heyes gestured to his very pregnant cousin-in-law.

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Mrs. Curry. "You can call me Aunt Cat."

"Thank you, um, Aunt Cat," said Mar stiffly.

He turned to the darker of the two ladies. "And this is my wife, Elizabeth Heyes," said Heyes.

Mar looked at her with something between eagerness and dread. Beth tried to ignore the tension in the room. She spoke softly, looking warmly into the eyes of her new foster son. "Mar, you know I was raised by my aunts, since my parents were both killed. I've been thinking about what you can call me. Since you already have a mother, what about Aunt Beth?"

Marvin breathed a soft sigh of relief. He had obviously been dreading calling another woman "Ma." Mar said, "I, um, that's fine by me, Ma'am. Aunt Beth. Thank you." He gave her a shy smile.

Beth smiled back. "We're very glad to have you here, Mar."

Mar glanced at Heyes to see if his manners passed muster. Heyes gave Mar a nod. He had done well.

But the former outlaw also had other things in his mind. "Cat, did you hear that Jed and Al are off out of town chasing a couple of thieves?"

"Yes, thank you, Joshua," said Cat calmly. It has hardly the first time she had heard such news. "Hank rode out here to tell us about it. I'm sure they'll be back before long."

"I hope so," said Heyes. "Jed knows we'll be going into town to have dinner with Charlie and the Doc at the hotel. He might just meet us there."

"Let's get you and your things into your own room, Marvin," said Beth. "You can make yourself at home. When you're ready, we can show you where things are and how they work around the house and the out buildings."

"Thank you, Aunt Beth," said Mar politely with a barely detectable shake to his voice. His heart was pounding at the thought of having his very own room. And his very own mother, whether or not he was ready to call her that. He followed Beth down the hall eagerly, his carpetbag swinging at his side.

As Heyes headed to the back of the house to clean up, he could hear Beth talking to their new foster son from down the hall. "Yes, that's your bed. I assume you know how to keep it made and neat? Good. And here's your desk, your chest, and your chair. I'll show you where the pump and the outhouse are. You'll want to clean up before we go out to dinner at the new hotel."

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A few miles outside town, two riders were picking their way cautiously and quietly through a rough, rocky woods. The sun cast long shadows. They had been riding a long time and had changed directions many times. Coming to the base of a rocky crest, the men carefully dismounted and climbed on their bellies up the rocks to where they could get a good look around. The older man touched his companion on the shoulder and silently pointed to a place about a mile distant where light was glinting off something bright and metallic among the trees. "It's them," said Kid Curry softly to his deputy. "Sun hit the tall guy's rifle."

"And there's his pal," murmured the sheriff, point to a spot a bit farther away. "I don't see any other boys come to join them. Do you?"

"No, sir," said Al. "But then, I didn't see those guys at all till you pointed them out."

"Keep quiet a while. Let's watch 'em," said the Kid. The pair lay with their arms crossed under their chins, watching their quarry for several minutes.

Al chuckled low in his throat as he saw the distant men dismount and then find themselves quiet places behind trees. The two lawmen from Louisville didn't have to be close enough to hear liquid flowing to know what the thieves were doing. They were only human and had been in the saddle for hours. When the fleeing pair had relieved themselves and buttoned up their trousers, the Kid still lay silently. The thieves were listening carefully and so was the sheriff. More minutes ticked by, and still the former outlaw didn't move.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Al softly through a yawn.

"For them to think they've lost us. And they think they have. See?" The taller of the two men was leading his horse to a grassing clearing where it could graze. And the other man followed. The two men vanished into the trees. A few moments later, Jed caught sight of more movement as the men found comfortable places under the trees. Then all was quiet for several minutes.

"Alright, I guess they're taking a rest. Let's go. You go in first and talk at them real loud for a minute or so. I'll cover you with my rifle from the left over there," the Kid pointed as a lower ridge beyond where the thieves were resting.

"What do you want me to say?" ask Al, perplexed.

"About anything other than 'hey, sheriff,'" said Curry. He laughed. "You just got to keep their attention and cover the sound while I sneak around behind them. Make 'em think my horse went lame or something, to explain why I ain't there. Then I'll them I've got them covered, so they won't shoot you. Sorry, I'm used to Heyes. I never had to tell him what to say – more like, the other way around."

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Beth left Mar to enjoy his new room and went to get some water boiling for the boy's bath.

Heyes helped to get the heavy copper of water onto the stove. "So, honey, what do you think of your foster son?"

"He seems like a sweet boy. He was certainly doing his best to be polite. But he has a lot to learn. I don't think we can assume he knows much about living in a house."

Heyes kissed his wife on the cheek. "I think you're right. A bawdy house isn't much like a real home. And he wasn't with the Clevelands very long."

"But you think he hung the moon," said Beth, putting her arms around her husband.

"Well, he is a lot like me," said the former outlaw with a sparkle in his eyes.

Beth laughed. "Not too much, I hope!"

Heyes gave his wife a hug before he went to change into his good suit.

Mar couldn't stop grinning as he looked around his very own room. It wasn't large or elegant, but he didn't know that. He just knew it was his. It had a comfortable bed, space for his own things, a window that looked out to where the horses were grazing. And a door that shut. It even had a lock on it. Aunt Beth had given him the key. True privacy was something the boy had never known before. He locked the door and unlocked it. He made sure no one was watching as he fondly stroked the white china knob. His very own door!

But Mar couldn't spend all evening gazing at his room and exploring the house and the outbuildings. He had a bath to take and a suit to put on before they went to dinner.

As the boy was toweling his hair dry on the back porch, his new foster father came to check on him. "How are you coming along, son? We all need to get dressed and get on our way to town."

"I'm good. Just got to get dressed. But ain't the Kid coming with us?"

"I don't know. He hasn't come back yet from chasing those thieves. Or if he has, he's still in town. If he's at his office, we can meet him there. He'll be hungry." Heyes chuckled softly. "He pretty generally is."

Mar, however was worried. "But what if he's hurt, or doesn't get back tonight?"

"He can handle it. He's got a good deputy with him. Come on, get into your suit." Heyes didn't sound worried at all.

"Can I ride into town on one of your horses?" asked Marvin.

Heyes shook his head. "No, not tonight. I didn't bring an extra saddle horse in from town, and I'll be riding Clay."

"But Blackie's here."

Professor Heyes spoke sharply. "Blackie is Jed's horse, Marvin, not yours or mine. Jed didn't give anyone permission to ride his horse. You can ride in the wagon with the ladies. Cat can start showing you how to drive."

Heyes winked as the disappointed teenager. "Mar, it won't be long before you'll be riding in, impressing the ladies."

Mar laughed in surprise. He had a foster father who understood more of a boy's woes than he had thought.

In fact, Mar wound up holding the reins most of the way into Louisville, with Cat watching him closely. She didn't have to do much correcting. "You have a good touch on the reins," she told the boy as they approached the former Ross Hotel with its mysterious signs promising exciting changes to come.

Mar glanced up and down the street, wondering if any local young ladies might look out of their windows to see who was driving the Curry wagon while Hannibal Heyes rode alongside.

"Keep your eyes on the horses and the road!" cautioned Cat Curry. "If the bays didn't have good sense, you'd have driven them right into the lobby."

"Sorry!" said Mar, giving his Aunt Cat what he hoped was a winning smile. It cut no ice with her.

"Pay attention, Mar!" said Cat sternly.

Mar gulped. "Yes, Ma'am!"

A teenaged young lady who was just walking into the hotel with her parents ducked her head and tried hard not to giggle. Marvin was quiet as he helped his foster mother and his foster aunt down from the wagon. His only refuge from complete embarrassment was the fact that Heyes had said nothing about the driving error.

The former outlaw said, "Pardon me – I'm gonna ride down to the sheriff's office and see if Jed and Al have gotten back yet. And I'll let Charlie and the Doc know we're here." Heyes neck reined his horse in a half circle and trotted off down Pine Street.

Mar almost rushed in to the hotel before remembering that he needed to hold the door for the two ladies. He looked around the lobby, with it's mirrors and potted palmed, in amazement. He had never been in such a nice place before. It was even nicer than the parlor in his new home – and much larger.

Cat quietly approached the front desk. "Mr. Whistler, has my husband come back since he rode out of town this afternoon?"

"No, Ma'am," said the grey-haired clerk. "We haven't seen the boss since then. I'm sure he and Al will be back soon, and safe."

"I hope so," said Cat. Then she returned to where Beth and Mar were waiting.

Beth said, "Since your foster father and his partner are absent, it's up to you to show Cat and myself into dinner, Marvin. The dining room is that way."

Marvin had a moment of panic, since he had not only never seen a woman in to dinner, he had never heard of the custom. Just then he was relieved to see a well-dressed hotel guest setting him an example as he led his wife into the dining room. The new member of the Heyes family put out an arm for each of the ladies to touch as they went toward the dining room.

The proudly smiling Marvin was greeted by the lean, grey-haired maître D'. "Good evening, sir. Would you like the regular table reserved for the owners?"

"Yes, sir," said Mar. "Thank you."

The maître D' pulled out a chair for each of the ladies. Marvin remembered just in time to stay on his feet until the ladies were seated. Mrs. Cleveland had taught him that. The boy's stomach rumbled. Marvin looked mortified until both his new aunts softly laughed.

As Beth was softly giving her new foster son a few directions for polite dining, Heyes hurried in. Beth knew the answer before he answered Cat's question, seeing the concern on Heyes' face. "Has Jed gotten back yet?"

"No. But I'm sure he's fine. Just doing his job as always. Sorry to keep you waiting. Charlie and the doctor are on my heels. They were already on the way when I rode by."

"Marvin has been a fine man of the house in your absence, Joshua," said Beth.

Heyes smiled. "I don't doubt it."

A young waiter came to the table. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Heyes, Mrs. Curry."

"And this is our new foster-son, Mar Mosley," said Heyes. "Mar, this is Walter. He's a fine waiter."

"Good to meet you, sir," said Mar stiffly.

The waiter stifled a grin. He was very young and unimportant for anyone to call him sir. "Can I bring you menus, sir?" he asked Heyes.

"Yes, but we'll have two more guests coming and I hope Mr. Curry will arrive before too long."

"Thank you, sir. I'll bring plenty of menus." And so the waiter did. Soon they were all having a good look.

Beth watched Mar cautiously. She quietly pointed out a few favorite dishes to him, being careful not to let on that she thought he might not be able to read much of the menu.

Heyes fiddled with the menu nervously and looked up eager as two men entered the room and headed for their table. It was Charlie and Doctor Grauer. Heyes got to his feet to greet the two older men. He glanced at Mar, who quickly followed suit.

"Good evening, Gentlemen," said Beth.

"Doctor Grauer, I would like to introduce our new foster son, Mar Mosley. Mar, this is Doctor Grauer, who looks after pretty much everybody in town."

The grey-haired doctor smiled. "I'm glad to welcome you to town, Mar."

"Thank you, sir," said Mar. "And good evening, Grandpa. So, you and the doctor are friends?"

"Yes, we've known each other for many a long year," said the doc as he sat down. "We met in New York long before you were born."

"Yes, we're old friends," said Charlie. "You're looking very fine, ladies. I guess Jed is still out chasing evil-doers?"

"Yes," said Cat. "I hope he and Al are safe."

"What's that you have with you, Charlie?" asked Heyes.

"Oh, this is something I thought you might like, Professor Heyes." Charlie handed his protégé a slightly worn volume bound in dark leather.

Heyes took the book eagerly. He opened the front cover to see the title page. "A Study in Applied Mathematics, by Professor Charles Hawthorne Homer, Ph.D.," the former outlaw read off aloud slowly, still handicapped in this skill by his remaining traces of aphasia. "Thank you, Charlie. I'm glad to have my own copy."

"Have a look on the endpaper," urged Charlie in a soft voice.

Heyes turned the title page and looked where his mentor had pointed. He smiled warmly as he read the inscription to himself. The spidery pen lines read, "To Professor H. Joshua Heyes, with affection. I hope you will soon replace this old text with your own. Good luck in Colorado, Charlie. August 25, 1891."

Heyes smiled with pleasure. "Thank you, Charlie. That means a lot. I don't suppose I'll be writing textbooks any time soon. Yours is still excellent."

"But it's old, like me. We need new blood in the field – and we're getting it."

The doctor added, "So are we. Mar, you'll have to come by some time and meet my new partner, Doctor Steadman. He's a good young guy. He'll be taking over before too long."

When the two newcomers had had time to peruse the menu, and Heyes had urged them to order whatever they liked at his expense, the waiter came and took their orders. Professor Heyes insisted on treating his new foster son to a steak. "As they always say, you're a growing boy. Don't expect steak every night, but this is a special occasion."

There was a pause as the waiter left the table. "Uh, Charlie, Doctor, tell us about New York. I'd like to go there someday," asked Mar, unsure if he was being too bold at table. But his foster parents both smiled, and soon the stories were being swapped back and forth between everyone at the table. Even Cat had her own New York tales. Mar mostly just exclaimed, "Jiminy!" often.

Then Mar's attention left the table suddenly. Mrs. Cortez, their pianist, was playing a piece of Chopin on the hotel's Steinway. Mar turned to listen and to watch her every move. He was riveted. He glanced at his foster father and looked toward the piano. He didn't have to say anything for Heyes to know he wanted to get closer to that piano. Heyes doubted Mar had ever heard real classical music before. Heyes nodded. He whispered, "Just be sure to come back and eat dinner when it comes."

It turned out to be a hard order to follow. Mar stood near the piano and watched every finger that touched a key, with his lips parted eagerly. If Mrs. Cortez had not paused for a break when dinner arrived at the Heyes-Curry table, the boy might never have gotten dinner at all.

Just as the diners at the owners' table were about to dig in, a dusty, weary figure ambled in the door. There was a flurry as the maître d' and all the waiters gathered to greet the boss. When he had spoken with them, Kid Curry walked slowly over to the table and sat down in the chair that had been reserved for him next to his wife.

"Good evening, folks," said Curry. "My, that smells good!"

"Oh, Jed," gasped Cat and gave her husband a lingering kiss.

"Jed, this is Mar Mosley," said Heyes. "Mar, meet your uncle Jed."

"Well, howdy, boy!" exclaimed the sheriff of Louisville, clapping the dumb-struck youngster on the shoulder. "Glad to have you join the family."

The Kid payed no attention to his new foster-nephew's silent, star-struck moment of inadvertent rudeness. He had encountered the reaction before.

"Well, I'm about ready to eat a horse, not that we serve it here, but I better go get washed up," said Jed Curry. He got to his feet. "I just couldn't come in without givin' my sweetie a kiss and meetin' the new member of the family."

"Jed," cried Heyes before his partner could get away. "What happened? Did you catch those guys?" 

"Oh, yeah, we did. No real trouble. Used an old trick you and I used to use when it was two against two, Heyes. You remember, Heyes, where I'd hide, and you'd pretend it was just you?"

"You bet I do!" said Heyes with a laugh. "When they found out you had your gun trained on them, Jed, they'd pretty generally stop giving us any trouble."

Jed grinned. "I had to do a bit of teaching to get it across to Al, but he caught on."

"Wow!" said Mar. Just then Mrs. Cortez started playing again, so the teenager fell silent. Between the music, meeting his idol, hearing stories about New York, and having steak for dinner, he was past knowing what delight to expect next.

When Curry returned to the table in a fresh shirt and with most of the dust out of his hair, the boy was torn between listening to the music and wanting to ask Heyes and the Kid all about their careers on the wrong side of the law. Mostly, he listened when Mrs. Cortez played and asked for stories during breaks. He was particularly thrilled to meet the pianist when she came over during her second break. Mar could hardly stop smiling.

When the pianist returned to her bench, she struck up a melody that Marvin did not know, but the Heyes did. Mar was struck with silent delight when his foster parents got up to waltz together and did it so well that the hotel guests cleared the floor for them.


End file.
